


Bright Smiles and Tired Eyes

by wickedwitchcraft



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bedsharing, Blood, Blood and Injury, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Geralt is still a Witcher, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Past Childhood Trauma, Please let me know if I need to add any tags, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Roommates, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion, Torture, and those are all in like the past, bitches love libraries, creatures and magics are still a thing, geralt has a small library, he's half of one, its jaskier he's bitches, omg they were roommates, punk jaskier, so mentions of character death even, traumatised Jaskier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwitchcraft/pseuds/wickedwitchcraft
Summary: Modern Au, Punk!Jaskier, Siren!Jaskier. Geralt needs a new roommate to help him pay rent. Jaskier answers his ad. Through a handful of circumstances and series of events… there’s bed sharing. And some angst. ...lots of angst, apparently.**originated as a request from a prompt list on tumblr from Tinyboop!**
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Renfri | Shrike/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 138
Kudos: 458





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> listen i'm weak for punk Aus okay? and Jaskier would look so good as a punk, i promise he would! i hope you like it!!!! <3
> 
> ***I DO NOT GIVE MY PERMISSION FOR THIS FIC TO BE POSTED ON OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION TO DO SO!!!!****

Finding a roommate had been… more difficult, than anticipated. Geralt wasn’t sure why he was surprised, people didn’t want to room with him for the same reasons no one wanted to give him work. Witcher’s were… disliked, to say the least. Yennefer had helped him put an ad together, his had been… short winded. She’d worked her magic, no pun intended, and wrote him an ad that was at least promising. She’d refused all his grumblings about her just moving in with him, to help him out. She refused to live with ex’s, even if they were still very good friends. The ad helped. His appearance and… profession, did not.

He’d met with several people already. At least ten, maybe more, he’d lost count and was getting tired. Tired of people coming into the small shop and sitting in front of him, reeking of fear. Tired of people seeing him and turning right around again to march out the door, not even giving him the curtesy of a ‘no thank you’. Tired of being gawked at, and refused, and glared at. He’d been spit on once and had put his fingers through the edge of the table, gripping it tightly, instead of putting his fist through their head. He liked the girl who ran this shop, she was nice, sweet, and she wasn’t afraid him. She was also dating Yennefer and he didn’t want to get on, either, of their bad sides, by starting, and finishing, a fight.

It had been three weeks, if he didn’t find a new tenant soon, he’d have to move, and that would just be worse, he’d never find another place that would give space to a witcher. He moved his finger in small circles on the table top, looking up when he heard the bell on the door chime. The man who walked through was… not human. Not entirely at least, there was a very strong _other_ smell to him. Geralt couldn’t pin it down though, it was buried under the scent of his cologne, and something else that smelled like… cinnamon. His hair was spiked into a bright blue mohawk, tattoos were scattered across the skin that Geralt could see, his flannel stopped at his elbows. There were piercings too, Geralt could see them catching the light as he moved to the counter and ordered a coffee, something sickeningly sweet.

Geralt watched Renfri make the order and hand it to the man with a smile. He nodded his thanks and then turned gracefully, his eyes, bright as fire in the night, scanned the room. His shinning eyes landed on Geralt and he nodded, Geralt wasn’t sure if he was nodding at him or to himself so he sat still, his eyes going back to the table top. He heard the man approach slowly.

“Geralt? That you? From the ad?” his voice was like honey and Geralt’s stomach dropped. He looked up at the man and nodded. He smiled down at him in return, and pointed at the seat across from Geralt, his eyebrows arched in question. Geralt nodded again. He sat.

“So umm… I feel like I should maybe open with the fact that I’m not human. And uh… clearly, you’re… a witcher. So if me being… not human, isn’t okay for you, I can go. I just-“ his hands were fiddling nervously next to his coffee cup.

“I just wanted to be honest up front. And not just because I’m worried you’ll kill me.” He laughed, awkwardly, cleared his throat, and took a very large swig of his coffee. Geralt watched him, watched his fingers wrap around the cup, his eyes moving over the music notes tattooed across his knuckles. He let the man set his coffee back down before he spoke.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Geralt said, picking up his own cup, bringing it to his lips.

“Yet.” He said and took a drink, trying not to smirk as the man squirmed in his seat before smiling softly, catching the joke. And that… was new. The man nodded, his mohawk not moving at all on his head, Geralt eyed it and then moved his eyes back to his face, he was wearing eyeliner, like those eyes needed any help standing out, and there were two lip rings shining against his bottom lip, more scattered in his ears. Geralt watched him take another sip of his coffee and thought he saw a tongue ring too as the man’s tongue ran quickly over his lip.

“So what are you? If you don’t mind me asking.” Geralt laced his fingers together on the table and watched the man in front of him. His cheeks reddened, and there was something in his eyes. Geralt thought it looked suspiciously like shame.

“Uh… A uh.. a siren. Well half of one, anyway. On my mother’s side. And I don’t- I don’t use it. The- the siren thing. It’s just- it’s just sort of there. I don’t use it on people, that would be…bad.” He finished lamely. His hands clasped together on the table, tightly, the scent of shame pouring off of him in waves. He was staring at the table, and for the first time since he’d seen the man, the scent of fear hit Geralt’s senses. Geralt stared at him, looked at him for a very long time, he knew that look, and he knew that smell. It wasn’t just fear. Or shame. It was both, dancing together across the man’s skin. He wasn’t afraid of Geralt, not the way he probably should have been, he was afraid of Geralt’s _reaction_. No doubt trained to be frightened of it through past experiences. Geralt felt an odd urge to reach out and comfort the man, he frowned and shoved the urge deep.

This man, who wasn’t _just_ a man, was sitting in front of him, not afraid of the _witcher_ in front of him, but afraid that the _person_ in front of him, would hate him. Hate him solely for what he was, despite not knowing him, just knowing _what_ he was. Geralt looked at him, and knew that feeling well.

“What’s you’re name?” The man’s eyes shot up from the table, he stared at him, blue eyes shining. Geralt raised his eyebrows, and waited.

“Ah! Um, Jaskier. I’m Jaskier.” He reached his hand out, clearly an instinct, his eyes flashing with worry immediately as his hand crossed into Geralt’s space. Geralt lowered his eyes to the hand extended to him, he watched it move back, the smallest amount, an unsure movement that was, somehow, endearing. He moved his hand up and placed in the hand that was offered, the man, Jaskier, smiled at him, and they shook.

“Geralt.” Jaskier smiled again, dropping his hand back on the table, fingers tap out a small rhythm.

“The room’s yours if you want it.” Geralt knew this was probably a bad idea. And he knew more, that Yennefer was going to yell at him, call him irresponsible, and, most likely, a great many other thing. But as sat here, looking across the table at the shining blue eyes of this shame filled siren, he knew he’d let her call him whatever she liked.

“Really? Are you sure? I mean, if you’re at all uncomfortable- I don’t want to impose or anything or- or get in your way. Or get you in… trouble. With the… witcher…people.” He narrowed his eyes, obviously knowing he sounded like an idiot as the words staggered out of his mouth. Geralt took a sip of coffee to hide his smirk, at least he knew he sounded ridiculous.

“The… Witcher people, will be fine. And I’m sure.” He slipped his fingers into his pocket and slid the small business card across the table.

“That’s the address, you can move in as soon as you want. Do you need any help?” He wasn’t sure why he’d asked that. He’d never offered his help to anyone before, well, to an extent. He’d offered to kill monsters, but never to help someone move. He didn’t even have a truck, or a car, no vehicle to help move anything. He furrowed his brow, mainly at himself.

“Oh no, I’m alright. I don’t have much.” He slid his hand across the table top, pulling the card to him, it disappeared from his fingers before Geralt’s eyes and he found himself wondering for the first time if Jaskier was maybe something other than just half a siren.

“But thank you.” His voice was soft. He drummed his fingers for a moment, filling the silence spreading between them, and then slowly stood up. He waved, took a couple steps and then turned around again.

“Seriously thank you. I’ve been looking for a place for ages. No one- no one seemed to want to give me a chance.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes glancing between the floor and Geralt. Geralt nodded and felt his lips move into a small smile.

“I know the feeling. See you soon Jaskier.” The man, Jaskier, smiled down at him, nodded, and turned to leave again. Geralt watched him go, watching the graceful way he walked despite the clunky combat boots on his feet. Geralt couldn’t stop his eyes moving slowly up the man’s back, the black skinny jeans hugging his legs and hips snuggly, there was red bandana peeking out from under the blue and back flannel that covered his ass and hung nicely on his broad shoulders. He watched Jaskier pull the door open, he spun on his heel, giving Geralt a small wave. Geralt raised his hand in return and watched Jaskier disappear down the street. He looked back to his coffee, took a sip, and wished he’d asked for something with cinnamon.

“Well he seemed nice.” Geralt jumped as Renfri threw herself into the seat Jaskier had left empty. She stared him down, chin resting on her hands, a smile on her lips and a knowing look in her eyes.

“Shut up Renfri.” He grunted, pushing himself out of his seat and walking out the door.

~*~

He moves in two days later. And he was right when he said he didn’t have much. He brought a bed, a small dresser, one duffle bag of clothing, and two instruments. A guitar strapped to his back, and a keyboard hung over his shoulder. Geralt helped him with the bed and the dresser, the delivery men had just dropped them on the sidewalk. Jaskier had knocked on his door looking sheepish. Geralt brushed it off and easily carried his things in for him, helping him set his room up the way he wanted it. The room was spacious, Geralt lived in a good-sized loft, and Jaskier’s few items made it seem, achingly empty.

Geralt left him to his own devices after they got his things settled, letting Jaskier wander around the apartment, looking things over, his fingers drumming against his thigh, he was clearly forcing himself not to reach out and touch everything in sight.

“You can touch things if you want. It’s not a museum.” Geralt smirked when Jaskier jumped, but smiled when the musician smiled at him and turned back to the bookshelf he was walking by slowly, his hand immediately reaching out, fingers brushing over each title gently, Geralt noted that his nails were painted black. The smile stayed on his face as he looked through the books.

“I didn’t realize I was moving into a library.” Jaskier called over his shoulder, his mohawk was green today, a dark emerald color, it only served to make his eyes even more vibrant.

“You can read them if you want. What’s mine is yours.” Geralt waved his hand toward the bookcase as he stepped into the kitchen, shoving his sleeves up his arms.

“Is that so?” he could hear the insinuation laced in Jaskier’s voice and froze. He turned to look at him, Jaskier was leaning against the bookcase, book open in his hands, one foot tucked over the other, his flannel was red today. He must have felt Geralt staring, he looked up from the book, eyes wide, inquisitive.

“What?” he asked, his face a mask of innocence. Geralt actually couldn’t tell, if it was a mask or not.

“Nothing. Sorry.” He shook his head and continued into the kitchen, his shoulders rolling, trying to move the tension out.

“You hungry?” he called, opening the fridge.

“I could eat.” His voice sounds, far away. Geralt glances past the fridge door and sees him still standing there, nose in the book, his eyes darting back and forth over the page. Geralt starts grabbing things out the fridge, sets them on the counter.

“You like pasta?” he asks, watching him stand there and read.

“Hmm?” he hums, not listening at all. Geralt smiles then, really smiles, and turns to hide it.

“You can sit on the couch you know? You don’t have stand.” Geralt grabs pots and pans and spoons and all the things he’ll need.

“What? Oh. Thanks yeah. Hey did you say something about pasta?” Jaskier’s voice gets louder as he walks toward the kitchen, he throws himself onto one of the stools at the island, Geralt glances back at him and he freezes.

“Am I gonna be in the way here?” he points at the marble island top where he’s set his book down. Geralt shakes his head and continues working.

“Do you… want help?” Geralt can feel him leaning to the side, trying to see what Geralt’s doing.

“You know how to make pasta?”

“Well that depends.” He hears Jaskier flop the book over, keeping his place.

“On what?” Geralt turns then, leaning back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Is it pasta from a box? And sauce from a jar? Or is it like, pasta pasta? And homemade sauce?” Jaskier is smiling at him, not a bright smile, a soft smile, just tilting the corners of his lips a little.

“Which one can you make?” Geralt asks, trying hard not to return the smile, his resolves slips a little when Jaskier leans back on the barstool and grins.

“You _look_ at me, and tell me which one _you_ think I can make.” He flattens his hand over his chest, his palm covering the design of the band shirt he’s wearing under his flannel. Geralt snorts.

“Box pasta. All the way.” He shakes his head and turns back to the counter, his cheeks burning at the look in Jaskier’s eyes.

“Wooow! Unbelievable. Ye of little faith!” his voice is full of drama, and humor, and happiness. It makes Geralt’s skin tingle. Without his permission he turns back to Jaskier, body moving on its own.

“So you can make real pasta then?” Geralt looks at him, one eyebrow cocked high. Jaskier looks at him, smiling still, brightly this time, his tongue running over his bottom lip, teeth coming down to pull the lip between it, his lip rings making small sounds against his teeth. He doesn’t hold the stare long before he’s snorting.

“Oh fuck no. Look at me. I’ve been eating SpaghettiOs out of a can for three months. The best thing I can make is grilled cheese.” He flips the book back over, that maddening smile still on his lips.

“But it _is_ a mean grilled cheese. Add some tomato soup on the side and it’s a gourmet meal for me.” He glances up at Geralt quickly and then back to the book, his smile falling slowly as he gets pulled back in by the words on the pages in front of him. Geralt watches him, noticing the dark circles under his eyes for the first time. He has them hidden so well with his eyeliner that if you’re not looking closely you miss them. Geralt supposes that that is the point. He sighs and begins cooking. Jaskier reading at the counter, the small noises of, _him_ , a comfort in the normally silent apartment.

“I forgot to mention I was a musician. I hope that’s not a problem. I mean, I figured you’d have said something earlier than now, like when you saw the guitar, but you also sort of seem like the kind of person to not want to say much. Even if you really _really_ wanna say something. So I thought I’d bring it up incase it’s an issue for you. But I do have headphones, so I won’t be like, having jam sessions or anything did you really make those noodles that’s insane, that you can do that.” Geralt jumped at the sudden talking, and raised his eyebrows at the sudden onslaught of words coming from the man behind him. He turned to look at him and found the book he’d been reading closed and pushed to the side, he felt his cheeks heat up at the thought that Jaskier had possibly been watching him for some time.

“Can you have jam sessions with an acoustic guitar and a keyboard?” Geralt smirked at him, Jaskier rested his chin on his hands and looked at him.

“I’ve had jam sessions with less.” He quirked an eyebrow at Geralt, challenging him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest again, the noodles boiling behind him.

“I have! I once had a session with nothing but a metal spoon, a bucket, and half a tambourine.” He dropped his hands onto the counter and smiled again. Geralt huffed, all this guy did was fucking smile. And the worst part was, it was warm, and infectious, and fucking _genuine_.

“Half a tambourine.” Geralt mused, turning away again, stirring the noodles and the sauce before walking to the pantry. He pulled out a loaf of bread and heard Jaskier gasp.

“Are you about to make _actual_ garlic bread with that fancy Aladdin bread right there?” his hands were flat on the island top now, slender fingers splayed out in front of him. Geralt paused and looked at him.

“Aladdin bread?” he repeated back to him. Jaskier nodded excitedly, hopping off the barstool and walking around to where Geralt was standing, moving into his space slowly and taking the bread from him gently.

“Yeah! Aladdin bread, like in Aladdin, at the beginning when he’s stealing bread and running from the guards with Abu and it’s a perfect little loaf like this one?” Jaskier does a twirl, spinning easily in the small space and brandishing the loaf of bread like a sword, the end level with Geralt’s chest, the exact spot someone would shove a knife to strike his heart. Jaskier was still smiling, wiggling his eyebrows at him. Cheeky. Geralt brough his hand up the bread, curling is fingers around the loaf.

“Right. And, in this situation.” Geralt stepped closer, pressing into Jaskier’s space the way he’d done to him. He watched Jaskier swallow roughly, eyes wide, nodding for Geralt to continue.

“Are you Aladdin. Or the monkey?” his voice was dry, he pulled the bread from Jaskier’s grip easily, poking him in the chest gently to guild him out of the way. Jaskier squawked, mock offence filling his voice as he held his hands up in surrender and backed away, letting Geralt push him out of his space. He settled on the barstool once more and continued to watch Geralt cook.

Geralt was used to being stared at. People stared at him all the time. This was different though. This stare wasn’t… hateful. It was… curious. Jaskier watched him with eyes full of curiosity, tracking his movements like a cat tracking a bird through a window. Geralt could feel his gaze on his back, eyes moving over his body, and for the first time, in a long time, he didn’t feel threatened by it. Or objectified by it, though Jaskier was no doubt looking at him… in that way. Geralt could smell it on him, he could smell how… appreciative, Jaskier was. He rolled his shoulders as he began mixing the garlic for the bread and heard Jaskier sigh behind him, a small thing, barely there.

He glanced over his shoulder, the feel of Jaskier’s eyes on him gone now, and saw the man had rested his head on his arms. Geralt knew he wasn’t sleeping, his heart beating at a regular pace behind his ribs. Geralt lips twitched again and he shook his head, finishing the garlic mix and brushing it onto the bread. He popped it in the oven and waited, resting against the counter, and letting his eyes fall to the musician half asleep on his island. His green mohawk was scrunched against his arm, his eyes moving behind his eyelids, fingers twitching where they rested on his arm.

Geralt could hear his heartbeat slowing as sleep tried to take him. His eyes moving faster and faster behind his eye lids. Geralt was sure he was nearly asleep now, his heart beating slower and slower. And then he flinched. His whole body jumping as he sat up, blinking hard at the bright lights in the kitchen, Geralt turned away quickly. He watched Jaskier’s reflection in the window on the stove. He rubbed at his eyes and pulled the book closer to him, flipping through it until he found his place. He rested his chin in his palm and began reading, his tired eyes moving slowly, blinking hard a few more times. Geralt felt a tug deep in his chest, his fingers itching at his side, and then he jumped himself when the timer on the oven began to ding.

~*~

Jaskier doesn’t sleep. At least he hasn’t. Not for the week he’s been around. Unless he sleeps when Geralt is gone. Which is possible. But the dark circles under his eyes get darker every day. And Geralt hasn’t known him that long, but he’s starting to worry. He lays down that night, barely sleeping himself most nights, and he listens.

He’d told Jaskier he wouldn’t be home until late. And then he’d gotten home early. He got cleaned up, took a shower, peaked through the crack in Jaskier’s door and saw him sitting at his keyboard, headphones draped over his neck, his fingers moving nimbly over the keys. Geralt stared for a moment longer and headed to his room. He threw himself onto his bed, his body tired, the job hadn’t been terrible. Just chasing off a few rowdy young werewolves. They’d barely put up a fight before running off back home. But the small fight had left him aching, getting throw into walls would do that. He laid in the dark, listening to the small sounds coming from across the hall.

And then Jaskier started singing.

He realized he’d made a mistake immediately. The sound of Jaskier’s voice immediately making his head fuzzy. He pushed himself out bed with a grunt. His feet stumbling beneath him as the haunting voice filled the halls of their apartment. He used every ounce of energy inside himself to shove his body through his bedroom door. He took two steps and had to brace himself against the wall, his head was swimming, his ears ringing, Jaskier’s voice filling his ears and pulling him under. He made it another step before he fell, his body falling into Jaskier’s door and then slamming to the floor as the door swung open, hard, knocking into the wall. Jaskier’s voice caught in his throat as he jumped out of his chair and stumbled backwards, hands flailing as he looked toward the door with wide eyes. Geralt laid on the floor, still unable to move his body properly.

“Oh fuck. Geralt! Shit no no no, you aren’t supposed to be home why are you hear?” he sounded panicked as he ran over to Geralt, falling to his knees next to him, his hands hovering just over Geralt’s body.

“Shit. Fuck I’m so sorry.” His voice was small. The cheer and happiness usually tinting his words was gone now, completely.

“Geralt. Fuck.” His hands finally settled on his own knees, moving up and down his thighs, the air around him was thick with worry.

“M’fine Jaskier.” Geralt mumbled as best he could, his cheek pressed roughly against the floor.

“No. You’re not. Look at you. I- oh hang on!” his hands flailed again as pushed himself off the floor, across the room in seconds, digging through his dresser for something. He made a small sound when he found it, and was back in front of Geralt in seconds. His slim fingers wrapped around something small and brown, both hands holding it, he brought it close to Geralt’s face and snapped it in half. Cinnamon filled his senses, his head cleared almost immediately. He grunted and pushed himself to his knees, noting how Jaskier scrambled backwards, moving away from him.

“I’m- I should- I should leave.” Jaskier’s voice was shaky, barely even a whisper in the silent room. Geralt picked up the broken pieces of the cinnamon stick Jaskier had snapped in front of him, holding them in his hand.

“Cinnamon.” He said, maybe a little dumbly. He looks up at Jaskier then, and what he sees makes his heart drop into his stomach. Jaskier had moved as far away from him as possible, his arms wrapped around himself, fingers digging into his ribs where he clutched at himself. There were tears falling down his cheeks as he stared at the ground. He looked impossibly small. Geralt pushed himself to his feet.

“It’s okay Jas-“

“No it isn’t!” he almost screamed it, his voice rising louder than Geralt had ever heard it. Jaskier sunk to the floor. His arms pulling his knees close to his chest as sobs fell from his mouth. Geralt crept closer, clenching his fists at his sides as Jaskier hid his face against his knees. He crouched down next to him, his hand reaching out slowly to touch his shoulder. Jaskier flinched, but Geralt left his hand there, refusing to move it.

“You didn’t do it on purpose.” He soothed, his thumb moving in small circles.

“It was an accident.”

Jaskier snorted humorlessly and looked up at Geralt, eyes full of self-loathing.

“It’s _always_ an accident.” He says, voice thick with, something.

“I can’t _fucking_ control it. And I- I could have hurt you.” The tears fall down his face like rain on a window. He bites his lip and sniffles, pulling the sleeve of his shirt down over his hand and wiping at nose.

“But you didn’t. I should have told you I was home. I saw you didn’t have your headphones on.” His hand moves off Jaskier’s shoulder as he stands, keeping himself pressed against the wall.

“You’re trying to make this your fault?” Jaskier scoffs.

“It’s at least a little my fault.” Geralt says, taking a few steps back, giving Jaskier some room. He smiles at him then, trying to show Jaskier that he really doesn’t blame him. It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault. They had an agreement. The only time Jaskier would sing out loud was when Geralt wasn’t home. And he wasn’t supposed to be home. And he hadn’t let Jaskier know he was in the house. Sure, Jaskier should have heard him, but he had been writing music, and Jaskier rarely hears anything when he’s writing music, or listening to music, or playing music, and reading books. He gets lost in his head so easily. So yes, Geralt didn’t just think it was his fault, he _knew_ it was.

“I should have let you know I was home. That was the deal. I broke it. It’s my fault.” He looked at Jaskier pointedly, kept his eyes on him until Jaskier finally looked up from the floor. His eyes shining with tears.

“It’s okay. Okay?” Jaskier pulled his lip between his teeth and nodded. Geralt nodded back and stepped further away. He watched Jaskier for a moment, watched his hands finally fall to his sides, watched him all but collapse onto his bed, sitting on the edge picking a hole in the knee of his jeans. Geralt walked out to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. He peaked back into Jaskier’s room, he was laying on the bed now, arm draped over his eyes.

“Hey.” Geralt called quietly. Jaskier peeked at him from under his arm, Geralt tossed the bottle to him, he caught it easily.

“Thanks.” Was all he got in return, Jaskier’s voice still small.

“Get some rest.” Geralt said, trying his best to smile again, and pulled the door closed. He watched the line of light under the door until it went dark and went back to his room, hoping that Jaskier would actually get to sleep.

He’d just about drifted off himself when heard the screams. He sat bolt upright, his hands fisting in front of him, ready for a fight. The screams stopped and he realized it was Jaskier. Across the hall. Screaming in his sleep. He focused his hearing, reaching out in the dark. Jaskier’s heart was racing, Geralt could hear him whimpering now. Another shout rang out through the dark and he heard Jaskier flail in his bed, and then heard a thud as he fell out of it. He heard Jaskier struggle to get untangled from his sheets, and then heard him pad down the hall to the bathroom.

He heard Jaskier climb into the shower, even heard him crying under the downpour of water. He listened to him get dressed and then heard him pacing. He walked to Geralt’s door four times. Stopping in front it, pausing, and then going back to his room. His hand had even touched the doorknob at least twice. Geralt waited for him to pace back, waited for him to stop in front if his door, and then called out to him.

“Come in.”

He heard Jaskier gasp. But the door opened, Jaskier shuffled into the room, his pajamas hung loose on him, baggy pajama pants barely hanging onto his hips. He looked small again and Geralt wondered how he did that, went from looking as tall as Geralt, all broad shoulders and long legs, to looking like someone Geralt could put in his pocket. He stood in the dim ray of light from the hall, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Are you alright?” he asked, not moving from the bed, pushing Jaskier to says something, for fear that if he didn’t, Jaskier would just stand there all night, saying nothing.

“N- no. No not really. And um… I’m gonna ask you something. And it might sound odd. And you can say no!” he hurried to add, his hands held out in front of him.

“Just ask.” Geralt grunted.

“Can I um… Can I sleep in here with you?” he asked, Geralt said nothing, sensing he was going to say more, his own heart began beating loudly in his ears.

“It’s just that. I uh… I have these dreams. Well, they’re not dreams really. Nightmares. I guess, is what they are. They’re nightmares. And uh,” he sighed, pushing his hand through his hair, Geralt just now noticing the his spiked up mohawk was soft from his shower, he could a slight curl to his hair.

“I um… I usually have… someone to… someone to sleep with. It- it helps. Having some one to- just having someone… to-“ he cut off, his eyes on the ground, Geralt could smell the embarrassment coming off him, he rubbed his hand over his face.

“To hold you?” Geralt prompted. Jaskier’s eyes snapped up from the floor, meeting Geralt’s in the dark. He swallowed hard and nodded.

“It helps. Makes me feel safe.” He was worrying his pajama pants between his fingers.

“I know it’s weird. I just thought I’d ask, I didn’t mean to-“

“Come here.” Geralt waved him over, lying back on the bed, pulling the sheet up in invitation. Jaskier swallowed hard and shuffled forward. He climbed in next to Geralt slowly, laying stiffly next to him. Geralt snorted and moved closer to him.

“Get comfortable.” He moved his fingers to Jaskier’s arm and felt him shiver at the touch.

“You’re sure? Like really sure cuz I get a bit… clingy.” He pushed himself up onto his elbow and looked down at Geralt, the moonlight from the window shinning in his eyes.

“Cling away.” Geralt said, pushing a lock of hair from Jaskier’s forehead with his finger, pulling another shiver from him.

“Okay.” Jaskier breathed, looking down at him, motionless, for a moment longer and then lowering himself down, pressing himself against Geralt gently. His head laying on Geralt’s shoulder, his hand resting on his chest, settled above his heart. His legs pressed against Geralt’s, his foot twitching a bit. Geralt reached down, curled his fingers around Jaskier’s knee and pulled one of his legs over his own so that it rested between them. He moved his hand up to settle on Jaskier’s hip and felt him sigh, finally relaxing completely against him. The only part of him moving now was his fingers, tapping out a gentle rhythm on Geralt’s chest.

“I hate it.” Jaskier whispered. Geralt moved the arm underneath Jaskier to hold his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I hate that part of me so much.” His breath was warm against Geralt’s chest, Geralt dug his teeth into his lip, wanting to comfort him, be he wanted Jaskier to get it out, whatever it was that he needed to say.

“And everyone else hates it too. As soon as people find out what I am. The look in their eyes, it changes, ya know? It twists, into this, look. Like they- like they’re-“ Geralt can feel tears pooling against his chest, wet and warm. He hears Jaskier choke back a sob and moved his hand into his still damp hair.

“Like they hate you.” Geralt whispers, breathing the words into Jaskier’s hair. He feels Jaskier nod.

“They don’t even _know_ me. I’m not… I’m not like that. I don’t like hurting people.” His fingers curl into Geralt’s shirt, clutching at it tightly.

“I know.”

“How can you know that? We just met. And you’ve seen it. You’ve _felt_ it. What I can do.” He flattens Geralt’s shirt back out, pressing his fingers down against him, pressing out the wrinkles he’d created.

“Jaskier. If you wanted to hurt people, you’d be hurting people. And I’m not sure anyone could stop you.” He moved his fingers to Jaskier’s chin, tilting his head up, making him look at him.

“I don’t think even I could stop you. If you really wanted to, I think you could bring this world to it’s knees with that voice of yours.” He moved his fingertips over Jaskier’s lips, feeling him gasp against them.

“But you haven’t. And you won’t.” He moved his hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

“There’s too much kindness in you.” He presses his lips to Jaskier’s forehead and then looks down at him again.

“It shines in your eyes every time you smile. And you fucking smile, all, the time.” Geralt sighs, frustration lacing his voice. Jaskier snorts, his body shaking against Geralt’s. Jaskier pressed closer, his body moving into Geralt’s like it was made to be there, his arm snaking around Geralt and pulling him closer.

“Should I stop smiling? Sounds like it bothers you.” His voice was heavy with sleep now, the heartbeat pressing into Geralt’s side slowing. Jaskier snuggled his head harder into Geralt’s shoulder.

“Don’t ever stop smiling.” Geralt breathed into his hair. He felt Jaskier smile into his chest and moved his fingers slowly along his scalp, listening to his heartbeat and breathing slow as he finally drifted off to sleep. Geralt pulled him closer, holding him tightly in the dark, and let his eyes fall closed. He pressed his nose into Jaskier’s hair and hoped he could at least bring him some peace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to humbly apologize for what you're about to read. i... i have nothing to say for myself. i torture the characters i love and i don't know why. but i know i can't stop. so again, i am... so sorry. but uh... it is what it is and what it is, is A LOT. haha! sorry in advance. love you guys! <3

Jaskier had crawled into his bed again, and was firmly pressed against his side. His face had been wet, tears still falling as Geralt reached out to him and pulled him under the covers. He’d fallen asleep quickly, and then had rolled over several times in his sleep, murmuring meaningless words. He now had his face pressed into Geralt’s bicep, slender fingers curled around his arm gently. Geralt watched him, he looked peaceful, the way he had once he’d finally fallen into deep sleep the last time. His breathing was slow, and steady, small snores escaping his lips. Geralt felt himself begin to smile, again, it was happening more often now. He was finding it harder and harder to resist smiling back at Jaskier. He sighed into the dark and then he froze. He heard familiar footsteps coming down the hall, he reached for Jaskier, his hand inches away when the bedroom door slammed open.

Jaskier flailed next to him, his elbow slamming into Geralt’s face. And then he was gone. Dragged out of the bed by a seething Yennefer. She threw him against the wall and then held him there, her fingers locked around his throat.

“Yen-“

“Shut up Geralt.” Her voice was calm, too calm, her violet eyes shinning in the dark as she stared at Jaskier. His hands where scrambling at the wall behind him, legs twitching as they fought to support him. His eyes were wide and shinning with fear, Geralt could smell the terror coming off him in waves. He tried to untangle himself from his sheets, fighting to get to him. Yennefer’s free hand shot back toward him and he found himself stuck, his body being held by an unseen force.

“Stay.” Yennefer said over her shoulder, glaring daggers at Geralt. She looked back to Jaskier and Geralt heard him whimper.

“Let him go.” Her voice was a growl. Geralt watched as confusion painted Jaskier’s features.

“I- I don’t- hck!” Jaskier stuttered and then cut off, his voice muffled by Yennefer squeezing his throat once, hard.

“You know exactly what I mean siren. Let. Him. Go.” Her teeth were bared and Jaskier whimpered again, his mouth opening as he tried to speak, a strangled silent scream. Geralt tried to fight her magic, tried to pull himself free to help him, but he felt himself slammed backwards. He vaguely heard the front door slam open, but he ignored it, trying to focus on the people in front him, and the fact that his ex and now best friend had his… roommate, pressed into the wall by his throat.

“Yen stop! He’s not doing anything to me. I’m me. There’s no influence. Let him go.” Geralt’s voice was quiet, he was trying to stay calm. His body still pressing forward into her magic, still having no effect. Her head snapped in his direction. Hurried footsteps through the living room.

“Oh please. Look at you. He moved in here what? Two weeks ago? And he’s already sleeping in your bed? I don’t think so.” She shook her head, and looked back to Jaskier, his hand was now wrapped around her wrist, his nails clawing at her as he struggled to breath. Her fingers squeezed harder, once, making him whine and flinched in her grasp. She loosened her grip and leaned close to him. Footsteps coming down the hall.

“I know what you are. I know what you do.” She whispered, her mouth a vicious line.

“He’s not like that Yen. He’s different!” Geralt’s voice cracked, he felt her magic faulter and pressed harder into it, it still didn’t let up. Jaskier’s eyes jumped to him, full of fear, tears threating to fall, and Geralt pressed harder, growling as he faut her.

“Yen-“

“Yennefer!”

Renfri’s voice rang through the room, Geralt watched Yennefer spin around, her hand still on Jaskier, holding him.

“Renfri-“

“Drop him.” Renfri’s voice was harsh, her eyes dark.

“Ren-“

“I said. Let. Him. Go.” She gave Yennefer a pointed look, echoing Yennefer’s own words. Yennefer sighed, but dropped her hand, Jaskier slid to the floor with a gasp, his hands jumping to his throat.

“And him.” Renfri nodded toward Geralt, he was straining against her magic, still, his eyes on Jaskier. She clenched her fist at her side and Geralt tossed himself forward, landing face first on the bed, hard, before throwing himself onto the floor, sliding on the wood beneath his knees until he was next to Jaskier. Jaskier flinched, and then settled his head on Geralt’s knee. Geralt moved Jaskier’s hands away from his throat, trying to get a good look at the damage. Jaskier’s neck was already bruising.

“You could have _fucking_ killed him.” Geralt spat, looking up at Yennefer. She sneered at him as Renfri pulled her away from them.

“I’m so sorry Geralt. I didn’t mean to tell her. It slipped and then she was gone.” She glared sideways at Yennefer.

“Fuckin portals.” She muttered. Yennefer smiled at her and Geralt saw Renfri’s grip tighten on her arm.

Geralt looked back to Jaskier when he felt him move. He was trying to push himself up, Geralt helped him sit, his hands resting on his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak and coughed, his face scrunched up as pain shot through him.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to-“ Jaskier batted at his chest gently with his hand, then turned to look up at Yennefer, his eyes determined. His hands moved in a flourish in front of his chest as he looked at her, his lips moving as he spoke with his hands. Yennefer looked down at him, Geralt watched her eyes move from Jaskier to himself.

“What was that?” she asked, sounding suspicious. Geralt smirked when Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“It’s sign language.” Geralt said, Jaskier hands jumped on his thighs, a clear sarcastic ‘thank you’.

“Sign language.” Yennefer echoed. Jaskier nodded.

“So what, he’s deaf? Mute?” She asked, crossing her arms, Renfri was rolling her eyes now, giving Geralt an ‘I’m sorry she’s so pig-headed look’.

“No. He just doesn’t need his voice to talk… apparently.” Geralt said, giving Jaskier a look, Jaskier smiled at him sheepishly. Geralt shook his head but felt himself smiling, again.

“So what did he say?” Yennefer’s voice broke in, impatient.

“Well my ASL is a little rusty, but it looked like he said he’d never hurt me.”

Jaskier moved his hands, his movements curt and final, spelling it out letter by letter while he stared Yennefer down. He looked to Geralt when he didn’t speak and pointed between them.

“Ever.” Geralt translated.

“He would never hurt me. Ever.” Geralt repeated the whole of what he’d signed, for emphasis. The look in Jaskier’s eyes left no room for argument. He cleared his throat gently, grimacing as his throat moved, and kept his eyes locked on Yennefer. They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer and then Yennefer dropped her eyes to the floor. Jaskier sighed and slumped back against the wall, liked he’d been using all of his energy to stare the mage down.

There was a long silence, the only small sound was the wheezing of Jaskier’s breathing. Everyone stared at the floor, Geralt watched Jaskier’s fingers fiddle with the seam on his pajama pants. He wanted to reach out, to hold onto that hand, to help calm the fast beating heart sitting next to him. But he knew Yennefer would see, and Yennefer knew how Geralt was. He wasn’t touchy feely, he didn’t reach out and comfort people he’d only known for two weeks. That wasn’t him. Except it was. At least where Jaskier was concerned. And he understood why she was worried. He knew he should probably be concerned as well, but he wasn’t. He’d felt what Jaskier’s voice could do, he knew what it was like being under that control, and this wasn’t it. This was all him. He looked at Jaskier, everyday since he’d moved in, he’d watched him, and watched him. And everything he’d done, between the time he’d met him in Renfri’s coffee shop, to now, had been because _he’d_ wanted to. Jaskier had had nothing to do with it, at least, not in the way Yennefer assumed he had.

“Fine.” Yennefer sighed, defeated, looking up from the floor at Geralt. He could see in her eyes she knew what he was feeling. He’d never been good at talking, but she had always had a talent for knowing what he was thinking. Renfri soothed her hand over Yennefer’s arm. Yennefer moved forward, just two steps, and crouched in front of them, her eyes locking on Jaskier again.

“But if you do, ever hurt him. I _will_ kill you. We clear?” She asked, her voice sickly sweet, her lips curved in a sinister smile to match. Jaskier nodded, once.

“Good.” She reached out and patted his leg, Jaskier flinched, and she stood up and walked back to Renfri, both of them walking toward Geralt’s, now slightly crooked, bedroom door. Jaskier moved, pressed forward, trying to push himself to his feet, Geralt helped him up, his hands under Jaskier’s arm to steady him. Yennefer looked back at them at the sound of their movements.

“See you around siren. Have a nice night.” She said, her voice sweet, her eyes decidedly not. Jaskier moved his hand toward his chin and then back out again. Yennefer’s eyes narrowed.

“That had better mean thank you.” She said, her eyes moving to Geralt. He glanced at Jaskier, the smirk on his lips telling him that it most certainly hadn’t meant thank you.

“I missed it.” Geralt said with a shrug, and he had missed it, so it wasn’t technically a lie.

“Of course you did.” Yennefer said, her eyes knowing.

“Okay. I think it’s time for us to go.” Renfri said, her voice full of forced cheer.

“You two have a lovely evening. Sorry for the intrusion. We’re leaving now.” Renfri shoved Yennefer out the bedroom, turned to mouth another ‘sorry’ at Geralt, and then continued shoving her down the hall and out the front door. Geralt followed them, leaving Jaskier sitting on the edge of his bed. He waved the ladies out and shut the door roughly behind them, sliding the chain lock back in place. He sighed, pressing his head to the door.

“Well she seems nice.” Geralt jumps at the sound of Jaskier’s raspy voice. He turns around and sees his silhouette standing by the island in the kitchen, Geralt reaches for the light switch and flips it on, Jaskier has one arm wrapped around himself, the other resting on his chest, his fingers resting on his neck, fingertips settled against the bruises darkening on his skin.

“She can be.” Geralt grunts, walking over to him. Jaskier nods.

“Your ex?” Geralt does his best not to grimace at the sound of his voice, it sounds like he’s been swallowing glass.

“Hmm.” He hums, moving to open the freezer, he grabs an ice pack and turns back to Jaskier, he catches the grimace on his face before Jaskier can hide it.

“Here.” He breathes, pressing the soft pack to Jaskier’s throat, he flinches and then settles, his hand coming up, fingers pressing against the back of Geralt’s hand.

“Thanks.” he rasps, a smile still curling his lips after the night he’s had. He looks at Geralt for a long time, color tinting his cheeks as he looks away, his hand falling away from Geralt’s too. Geralt forces himself to stay still, to not chase after his touch.

“I think,” he grimaces, swallows hard, tries again.

“I think maybe. I should sleep in my own room. Just-,“ coughs shake his body, Geralt steadies him with a hand on his shoulder and does his best to ignore the way Jaskier leans into the touch.

“Just for a while.” He rubs at the back of neck, Geralt watched that lovely pink tint on his skin crawl down Jaskier’s neck, his stomach sinking when it reaches the darkening skin there.

“Okay.” Geralt says, afraid to say more. Jaskier’s eyes finally move back to him, he swallows again, doesn’t cough this time, the smile that curls his lips is sad. Geralt looks at it, his mouth feeling dry. He pulls one of Jaskier’s hands up, pressing it against the ice pack, Jaskier holds it there as Geralt walks back to the fridge. He grabs Jaskier a water bottle and then walks him back to his room. Geralt stays by the door as Jaskier gets settled, he’s lingering, he knows, but he can’t help it. Jaskier falls back, his head sinking into his pillow, his now bright red hair splayed across his sheets. He looks up Geralt and gives him a small wave.

“My door will be open.” Geralt’s voice is quiet, he crosses his arms and takes a step back, away from Jaskier, out into the hallway.

“If you need… anything.” He’d wanted to say ‘me’. If you need me. But he’d thought better of it. Knew he shouldn’t say that. Shouldn’t offer it. Shouldn’t have even thought it. But he _had_ thought it. And he’d meant it. _Wanted_ it. Wanted Jaskier to need him. He watched Jaskier smile at him and shut his light off. Geralt waved, and turned back to his own room, walking into the dark with a smile on his lips.

~*~

It had been three months. Three months and no Jaskier. Jaskier was there of course. In the house, everything else was normal. He was friendly, and sweet, and annoyingly adorable during the days when Geralt was home. He’d even been trying to cook for Geralt, it hadn’t been going… well. More than once Geralt had come home to the apartment smelling like smoke. But only once had he come home to Jaskier in a panic while the smoke was still there. Geralt had frozen, his skin tingling as he watched him flailing and running around the kitchen. Jaskier’s cheeks had been flushed, his flannel had been thrown onto the back of a chair, the tank top he was wearing showing his arms, tattoos scribbled up and down them but not covering the muscles moving under his skin. He’d looked up at Geralt with pleading eyes, yelling something, Geralt had snapped out of it, and helped him put the fire out. Geralt had swallowed the feelings bubbling in his chest, and tried to keep his eyes away from Jaskier’s exposed skin.

He’d been staying away at night. Geralt hadn’t been sleeping. He’d never really slept well anyway, so him not sleeping wasn’t new, but now he wasn’t sleeping because he was focused on the sounds across the hall. Jaskier fell asleep alright most nights. That never seemed to be his problem. Falling asleep the first time was easy. He’d sleep for maybe an hour, never much longer than that, and that’s when the screaming would start, like clock-work, every single night. He’d wake himself up screaming. Sometimes thrashing around so much that he threw himself out of bed, usually waking with a shout or a grunt. Geralt would flinch every time, his hands itching at his side. He wanted so badly to go to him. But he couldn’t. He had to let Jaskier come to him.

He listened to Jaskier shower, sometimes he cried, sometimes he didn’t, but no matter if he cried or didn’t cry, he always had a smile waiting to greet Geralt in the morning. But the dark circles under his eyes were getting darker and darker and Geralt was going to have to say something soon. His chest had begun to ache every time he watched him nod off and jerk awake during the day. Geralt watched him, day after day, he read book after book on Geralt’s shelf, never looking to see what it was before he started it. Geralt hadn’t even read half of them, but Jaskier was reading through them like he was trying to set a record. Geralt knew in his heart he was reading them to stay awake, and to keep whatever horrors lurked in his head at bay. He sat, and he watched him, and he wished he could do more.

Renfri invites them out a week later. She’d grabbed Geralt when he was getting his morning coffee, told him to bring Jaskier. Geralt had argued that that wasn’t the best idea. Yennefer would be there after all. Renfri assured him it would be fine. The she could handle Yen if it came down to that. And so here they sat, all four of them, a table in the corner of the loudest, most crowded bar, Geralt had been in in a long time. The noise was grating on his nerves, his hackles clearly raised. His hands were clenched so hard around his glass it was probably going to shatter. And then Jaskier was touching him.

His fingers gently pressing against his wrist. Geralt looked down at his hand, black nails standing out sharply against his own pail skin, then moved is eyes up to look at Jaskier’s face. He was talking to Renfri, both of their faces animated, Jaskier laughed at something she said. He wasn’t even looking at Geralt, but he gave his wrist a small squeeze, Geralt’s grip on the glass loosened. He watched as Jaskier’s eyes flicked to him, the corner of his mouth twitching, and away again. Geralt swallowed, the tension leaving his shoulders. He can feel eyes on him and looks up to find Yennefer staring at him.

Her eyes wander to Jaskier’s hand on Geralt, they wander to Renfri and Jaskier, still talking and laughing together, they wander back to Geralt, taking in the set of his shoulders, the way his grip was no longer strangling the glass in his hand, and then she smiles. It’s a small thing, the smallest tilt of her lips. She looked at Geralt, then to Jaskier, and then back, and gave Geralt a nod. Geralt nodded back, knowing that Yennefer would say nothing more about Jaskier. He knew also, that she would still make good on her threat to him, if ever did anything to deserve it.

Yennefer pulled him onto the dance floor not ten minutes later, dragging him into the center, leaving Jaskier and Renfri to chat at the table. Geralt and Yennefer both keeping their eyes on the pair as they danced. Geralt had never been fond of dancing, but Yennefer liked it, and she enjoyed the challenge of making Geralt untense. Doing her best to make him laugh and loosen up. She threw him into a spin and when they ended up back together, both their eyes darted to their table and find Renfri gone. Yennefer frowned, Jaskier pointed toward the bar, catching them both looking and smiling. Sure enough there she was, standing near the bar ordering drinks.

She was on her way back to the table when the man grabbed her arm. The glasses in her hands fell to the ground and shattered as she was pulled backwards. He says something into her ear and her fist slams into his face seconds later. The crowd around them heaves, bodies shoving in the direction of the commotion. Three more men come at her, obviously pissed that she’s dropped their asshole friend to the floor with one hit. She takes them out easily too, swift kicks and hits landing easily before they can even touch her. And then there are five of them, surrounding her, and two more coming up behind her. Geralt and Yennefer try their best to shove through the crowd, Geralt’s heart sinks when he realizes that they’re too far way. There are too many bodies between them.

And then Jaskier is there, shoving through the group of men surrounding Renfri, his hands held in front of him, trying to quell their anger. A fist slams into his stomach, a knee hits his face, and he’s on the floor. Renfri yells. Lashing out. Jaskier is on his feet again in moments, holding her back, and being held up by her at the same time. Geralt sees it, a glint in his eyes. He searches the crowd, his eyes finally finding Geralt and Yennefer, there’s a question there in those blue eyes. A question he can’t ask. A question he shouldn’t have to ask. But he’s asking. His eyes desperate, waiting for permission. Geralt feels himself nod, and sees Yennefer nod next him. Jaskier nods back, once, and straightens his shoulders.

“Hey! Assholes!” Jaskier yells, but his voice is… different. There’s a lilt to it, a purpose. The men around them faulter. Their brows furrowing. The bar goes silent and still, save for the music playing from the juke box in the corner.

“Yeah, you.” He nods as they stare at him. And Geralt feels it, that pull in his head. He feels Yennefer look at him and does not look back. The crowd around them breaths a heavy sigh in unison. Geralt feels himself shiver, the power that Jaskier wields with his voice is mesmerizing.

“Is that how you were taught to treat a fucking lady?” he asks, his hand tightening on Renfri’s waist, Geralt sees her fingers tighten on Jaskier as well and is sure it’s because he’s trying very hard to stay on his feet, his nose is bleeding from the knee to the face.

“Not so talkative now huh? Well that’s just fine. You all, should leave.” He’s glaring at them, the look in his eyes as deadly as his voice could be, if he wished it. The men around them, glossy eyed now, turn to the door, their feet beginning to shuffle slowly. Geralt watches as every head of every patron in the bar turns to follow them.

“But first,” Jaskier hold up his finger, his smooth voice filling the air, sending chills through the room,

“ _You_ , kick _him_ , in the balls.” He pointed to the men that hit him, one of them the man that had first grabbed Renfri, Geralt sees her smile, still holding Jaskier on his feet. The men comply, he roughly kicks his friend, and the other man lets him. The man doubles over, but stays eerily quiet. Jaskier pulls himself free of Renfri, her hands hovering near him as he walks over to the man, he sways on his feet and then leans down, his lips pressing close to the man’s ear. Geralt strains his own hearing, knowing he shouldn’t be _trying_ to hear Jaskier right now, not when his voice is doing…that. But he can’t help it. He feels the room move with him, every body in the small space leaning forward, just a little, needing more.

“Now. Fuck off. And never fucking come back here.” He growls, it’s a strangely musical sound, like chimes in a thunderstorm. Geralt feels his head go fuzzy and shakes it to clear it. The men circling them disperse. The crowd around them moves away as well, most of them looking dazed, shaking their heads and returning to what they’d been doing, like breaking from a trance, the bar fills with noise again. Geralt and Yennefer push forward, reaching them just in time to catch Jaskier as his knees buckle beneath him. Yennefer grabs onto Renfri, her hands clutching at the sides of her face, kissing her chastely before turning to Geralt, now knelt on the floor, his hand resting on Jaskier’s shoulder. She kneels too, looking at Jaskier. Geralt’s heart pounds in chest and then drops to his stomach when he sees the shame in Jaskier’s eyes.

Yennefer reaches out carefully, noting the way he flinches away from her, slowing even more. She gently covers his nose with her palm, a warm glow spreading under her fingers, Jaskier gasps. She pulls her hand away and Jaskier touches his face, pressing his fingers against his nose. His eyes move to the mage. The mage who he’d last seen when she was choking the life out of him.

“Thank you.” He smiles at her. And Geralt can see the affect it has on her, can see the way she softens, he knows that feeling well. She furrows her eyebrows, looking at him for a moment longer, she rests her hand on his shoulder, and leans closer to him, her other hand resting on his cheek.

“And thank _you_.” She presses her forehead to Jaskier’s and then she’s gone, up and standing next to Renfri in seconds. Geralt moves his hand to Jaskier’s cheek, doing his best to ignore the way he leans into the touch again. Renfri walks over to stand behind Jaskier, bends down and presses a kiss to the top of his head, into his hair. Jaskier tilts his head up and looks at her.

“Thanks for defending my honor siren boy.” She smiles down at him, laughing with him when he laughs.

“Hey sure. Maybe next time you can defend mine.” He winks up at her. She snorts and pats his cheek.

“I’ll be there.” She pokes him in the nose, hard, making him squawk and flail, Geralt ducks his hand as he lashes out and grabs the front of his hoodie to keep him from falling over. Yennefer walks closer, pressing herself against Renfri, wrapping her arms around her.

“We’re gonna head home. You guys okay to get back to yours on your own?” she asks, watching Geralt pull Jaskier to his feet and steady him.

“We’re good. Thanks Yen.” Geralt nods, she nods back, the air behind her shimmers and parts, she and Renfri walk through the portal and are gone. Jaskier stares after them, sighing loudly and looking at Geralt.

“She’s got portals? Why did you tell her we were good? We could have used the portal. We could have portal-ed!” his hands jump and fall at his sides, Geralt looks at him, and says nothing.

“What?” Jaskier asks, his hands rising to settle on his hips. Geralt tilts his head.

“Too complain-y?” Jaskier’s face scrunches up. Geralt widens his eyes.

“Yeah fair enough. Alright let’s go.” His hands fall from his hips and he heads toward the door. His hand grabbing the hem of Geralt’s shirt, dragging him along with him.

~*~

Geralt is lying in bed, listening to Jaskier take his nightly shower, he can hear him crying again. He listens to the water stop. Listens to Jaskier play soft melodies on his keyboard for an hour. Listens to him sigh as he falls back into bed to try again. He listens to him drift off and jerk awake four times before he shoves his own blankets off. The strangled sob after the last one pushing him past his limit. He pulls his door open and pads across the hall. He knocks once and then pushes Jaskier’s door open, the light from the hall falls onto Jaskier, he’s wearing spiderman boxer briefs and a cut off shirt with some band Geralt’s never heard of on the front, Geralt blinks dumbly at him. He pushes himself up, sitting and squinting at Geralt.

“Hey.” Geralt says, ever the wordsmith.

“Hi.” Jaskier says, his voice is small. The make up around his eyes is gone now, and Geralt can see how tired he is. He doesn’t know how he’s been staying awake the past few weeks. Geralt swallows, pressing down any reservations he has. This isn’t for him. This is for Jaskier. He needs him. Needs this. He turns, shutting the door behind himself, and walks to Jaskier’s bed. He watches the long line of Jaskier’s neck as he looks up at him, his eyes wide and curious in the dark.

“May I?” Geralt asks, pointing at the bed. Jaskier bites his lip and then scrambles backward, nodding and pushing the sheets around, scuttling under them as Geralt crawls in next to him. He can feel the tension in Jaskier as they lie there in the dark, side by side, arms barely brushing one another.

“So… what uh… what’s this?” Jaskier asks, staring at the ceiling. Geralt rolls to his side, looking at Jaskier.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” He says, matter of fact. Jaskier coughs, his arms pulling closer to himself, the way he does when he gets nervous, or scared, or upset.

“I’ve slept. Some.” He says, and there’s no confidence in his voice. Geralt reaches out, brave in the darkness, and presses his hand flat against Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I don’t think it counts when you wake yourself screaming.” His words aren’t unkind, but he feels Jaskier flinch underneath his hand.

“I guess not.” He mumbles. Geralt knows he doesn’t want to talk about it. He never does. But Geralt lays in the dark, and he can feel and smell the fear in the room, left over from whatever it was that was terrorizing him in his sleep, and he thinks maybe he _needs_ to.

“What do you dream about?” he feels Jaskier bristle.

“I don’t- you said you wouldn’t ask me that.” There’s a hint of betrayal in his voice, and Geralt hates himself for putting it there. Hates himself more for what he’s about to do.

“I lied.” Jaskier takes a deep shaky breath.

“Tell me what you dream about. I fight monsters for a living Jaskier. Maybe I can give you tips for fighting the ones haunting your dreams.” He pressed his hand into the skin of Jaskier’s shoulder, trying to anchor him. Jaskier turns to him, the light in his eyes dim, even in the dark they usually shine so brightly, but not now.

“And what if it’s not monsters.” He whispers, his teeth dig into his lip for a moment, so hard Geralt is worried he’ll draw blood. Geralt furrows his brow.

“What if it’s not monsters haunting my dreams. What if it’s- what if it’s something else?” his lip trembles, and he lets it this time, his arms wrapping around himself now, holding himself tightly, his eyes moving back to stare at the ceiling. Geralt sighs, moves his hand across Jaskier’s chest slowly, then up along his jaw, finally settling on his cheek, moving Jaskier’s head gently to look at him.

“Anything that makes you scream like that, is a monster.” He’s whispering now, trying his best not to scare Jaskier off.

“I can’t help you fight it, if you don’t tell me what it is.” He moves his thumb against Jaskier’s cheek, feeling wetness as Jaskier begins to cry. He presses his hand over Geralt’s own, his fingers clinging to him, his breathing is shallow, his heart pounding in his chest. Geralt watches him squeeze his eyes shut and take a deep breath, he takes a deep breath of his own and presses closer in the dark.

“Tell me what you dream about.” he whispers. Jaskier opens his eyes, looks at Geralt, and smiles, small and sad.

It takes him a long time for him to start talking. Geralt waits, his hand moving away from Jaskier, giving him space to collect himself. He seems to wrestle with himself, his mouth opening and closing several times before he furrows his brow and looks back to Geralt with a pained expression.

“I don’t know where to start.” He breathes, his breath ghosting over Geralt’s skin, making him shiver. He looks at Jaskier, looking at him, moves his hand down to Jaskier’s on top of the sheet and laces their fingers together. Jaskier’s eyes drop to look at their hands, he stares for a long time, and then he speaks.

“When I was little. Some men came to our house.” He starts, taking a deep breath, his eyes still locked on their hands.

“They slammed their fists into the door over and over and I didn’t understand why my parents weren’t opening the door. And then my mom grabbed me. She grabbed me and took me to the basement. There was a closet down there, that had a little… I don’t know what it was, really. A crawl space maybe?” His voice devoid of emotion, his eyes blinking slowly as he moved his eyes to the ceiling.

“She put me in there and told me not to come out. No matter what I heard. She said ‘stay in here. And don’t come out. Not for anyone.’ And she started to leave but I grabbed her hand, and she turned to me, and there was this look in her eyes. She- she looked sad. I’d never seen her look so sad.” A tear fell down Jaskier’s face. Geralt’s heart ached, he’d heard stories like this before. None of them ended well. He knew Jaskier’s story wouldn’t end well, it couldn’t, this story ended with something that haunts dreams. He squeezed Jaskier’s hand tight and kept listening.

“She knelt in front of me, took my face in her hands, and told me she loved me. She said ‘My dearest Julian. I love you so much. And your father loves you too, you know that don’t you? That we love you?’ I think I nodded, I don’t remember, but she smiled at me. And she said ‘my darling boy we love you so much. You have to stay in here alright? You stay in here until you don’t hear anything for a long long time. And then you stay longer.’ And she pulled me into a hug, squeezed me so tight it hurt.” Jaskier’s voice was shaking, he used his free hand to wipe at his face in vain, tears falling where he’d wiped some away just seconds before.

“She walked away. But then she came back, her face was so serious and she held onto my shoulders so tight I thought she’d break something. And she said ‘you are every inch my son. You know that? What we are. What _you_ are. There’s nothing to be ashamed of my darling. People will call you things. They’ll be afraid of you. But you don’t have to give them something to be afraid of. You stay just the way you are my happy boy. My sweet, kind, boy. People will call you a monster. But that doesn’t mean you have to be one.’ She kissed my forehead and then she was gone again. And I tried to hide.” His voice wobbled, he looked at Geralt finally, his lip trembling and face wet with tears.

“I tried so hard to be good.” He swallowed hard, his eyes full of sickening shame.

“But I heard them screaming. My parents. I could hear the men yelling, they’d broken the door down. I ran to the top of the stairs, the door was still cracked, like it had just been pushed to and then had opened a bit on its own. The basement door always did that if you didn’t pull it shut just right.” He looked at Geralt with pleading eyes, Geralt nodded, like he knew all about the door, Jaskier’s hand was shaking in his.

“And I looked out, and I shouldn’t have, I – she told me not too. But I- I couldn’t help it. The screaming had been so loud. And there was-“ his voice caught in his throat, drowned out by a sob.

“It’s alright. I’m here it’s okay.” Geralt whispered, moving his free hand to wiped at Jaskier’s face. Jaskier nodded, his face pressing against Geralt’s hand.

“There was blood everywhere. My mum she- she was lying there, on the kitchen floor. And there was- it was everywhere.” He was openly sobbing now, his breath rattling inside his chest as he tried to speak.

“I ran to her but she wouldn’t wake up. And my- my dad he- he was in the living room. I could see him lying on the floor. But he looked… wrong. He looked wrong somehow. I shouted for him but he wouldn’t answer. And I tried to get to him but I couldn’t just leave her there. She would have been all alone.” His voice was small, he sounded every inch the child he had been when his parents had been taken from him so cruelly. 

“I couldn’t leave her alone. Not there- not with all that-“ his voice shattered with grief, his face twisted in the dark as silent sobs clawed their way out of his throat. Geralt pulled him close, wrapping him in both arms. He held him until his body stopped shaking, his hand pressing into his hair. And Jaskier clung to him, his fingers digging into his back as he tried to pull him closer, sobbing into his chest until he had no more left in him. Geralt pulled back after a while, letting Jaskier fall back onto his own pillow, he kept his arm under him, letting Jaskier rest his head on him.

“They come for me in my dreams. Those men. They come to kill me. Like they killed my parents. Like killed her.” His voice was emotionless again, a numb look on his face. Geralt nodded.

“Because you’re a siren.” Geralt said. Statement, not a question.

“Because I’m a siren.” Jaskier agreed, sighing and pressing his head harder against Geralt’s arm beneath it. Geralt’s heart broke in his chest, the way Jaskier said the word siren, the way it stuck in throat and fell from his tongue, dripping like acid. He knew that tone. He’d heard it in people’s voices for years. It was the same way people spit the word ‘witcher’ at him. Their voices full of hate and ridicule. Geralt looked at Jaskier in the dark, watched him lying there, looking at Geralt, hating himself. Geralt pressed his hand to his cheek once more, the tears had stopped, Jaskier’s face was warm though, warm from crying into Geralt’s chest.

“You are a siren. But that doesn’t make you a monster. And I will _never_ ,” he paused, looking at Jaskier with meaning,

“I will never, let anyone like that, get anywhere near you.” He moved his hand down Jaskier’s jaw, letting it come to rest against his neck, inwardly preening at the way Jaskier literally hummed under his touch. Jaskier smiled at him, small and unsure.

“I mean it. I’ll kill them all before they can touch you. I promise you that.” Geralt had never meant anything more in his life, his chest ached with it. Jaskier looked at him, for a long time, his eyes moving to take in Geralt’s face. He shifted, turning on his side to face him more, his hand moving up slowly. He moved his finger tips over Geralt’s face, tracing every line, every detail, moving his thumb over Geralt’s lips as he settled his hand against his cheek, a smile curving his own lips just so.

“So valiant.” He hummed, his teeth pulling at his lip, lip rings clicking against his teeth.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed back, his lips moving into a smile beneath Jaskier’s thumb. Jaskier chuckled, a happy sound after so much darkness, and pressed close, resting his head on Geralt’s chest, tangling their legs together. Geralt moved his hand through Jaskier’s hair and held him close.

“I’ve never told anyone that.” Jaskier whispered into his chest, his fingers curling in Geralt’s shirt. Geralt moved his fingers under Jaskier’s chin, tilting his head up to look at him.

“Thank you for telling me.” He moved his thumb over Jaskier’s jaw and let his head fall back down.

“Thank you for making me tell you.” Geralt felt him smile into his chest, his fingers moving against him, pressing out the wrinkles he’d created in his shirt. He felt Jaskier sink into him, relaxing against his side and onto his chest. His fingers tapping out a slow rhythm above Geralt’s heart.

“My brave witcher.” Jaskier breathed, his voice thick with sleep, as he pressed his face closer still. Geralt moved his fingers against Jaskier’s scalp in slow circles, watching the sun begin to paint the horizon as they drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you aren't all too sad??? or like... dead or something??? i didn't mean to hurt him so much but i did. and i'm so sorry!!! but the next chapter will be fluffy!!! i know that already!!! and unless it gets away from me there shouldn't be much angst at all in the next part!!!! thank you for reading guys! sorry if i hurt you!!! <3 
> 
> Nice comments are always loved and appreciated!!! <<<333


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is all fluff you guys!!! the fluff before the storm! a fluff buffer if you will! i hope you like it!!! enjoy my dear hearts! <3

Geralt hears Jaskier’s voice as he’s walking down the hall. He’s speaking in a hushed voice, whispering sweet nothing to… someone. Geralt’s heart drops into his stomach as his legs falter beneath him. He thinks about turning around, giving Jaskier space to do… whatever he’s going to do with whomever he’s with. He has hiding options flashing through his head like a shuffling deck of cards when his ears dial back into Jaskier’s voice.

“- and your little floppy ears are just ridiculous, so soft. I mean all of you is soft, obviously, but these ears! And these feeties!” his voice gets higher as he speaks, Geralt has heard people uses voices like that before, but never on a lover. He stops in front of their door, reaches out slowly, wraps his fingers around the door knob, and gives it a turn. He pushes the door open slowly, and has to bite his tongue to keep… some kind of strangled noise from escaping him.

Jaskier is sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room, his legs spread in a wide V, drink in hand. His mohawk is pink today, a light pink, like the sweetest cotton candy, the sleeves of his green flannel are shoved up his arms, his combat boots are sitting by the door, rainbow striped socks covering his wiggling toes. He’s looking down at the space between his legs, eyes full of adoration, his lips moving as he continues talking to the… Geralt drops his eyes to the floor between his legs, brows furrowing as his eyes take in the animal settled there.

It’s the biggest rabbit Geralt has ever seen. Nearly 3 feet long, its legs stretched out behind it, face smooshed against Jaskier’s thigh as he digs his slender fingers deep into its brown fur. He watches Jaskier for a minute, the man clearly hasn’t heard him come in, lost in his own world, currently full of… a giant rabbit.

“What do you have there?” Geralt inquires, stepping a little closer, crossing his arms. Jaskier’s eyes snap up to him, a smile automatically curving his lips, his eyes are wide as he looks down at the drink in his hand.

“A smoothie.” He says, eyes full of genuine innocence that makes Geralt’s chest ache. Geralt looks at him, widens his eyes.

“Try again.” he says, amusement in his voice. Jaskier’s brow furrows, he looks at the drink and then Geralt watches his eyes drop to the rabbit, he smiles softly as Jaskier’s eyes widen again and his mouth falls open in a gasp of realization.

“Oh this!” he says, pointing at the rabbit.

“Yes Jaskier. That. What is that?” he shakes his head but keeps smiling.

“Right well. Do you remember last week when I texted you and asked if you liked cats? And you said-“

“They don’t like me.”

“Right you said they don’t like you, cuz of the whole,” Jaskier waves his hand in Geralt’s direction, gesturing to all of him.

“Thing. Good so you remember that. Well this is… not… a cat.” He finishes lamely, pointing at the giant rabbit resting against his legs. It looked up at Geralt as he stepped a little closer. He waited for it to see what he was, and bolt, and found he was waiting in vain. The rabbit looked at him, its nose twitching as it seemed to assess him, and then moved its head back to Jaskier’s leg, closing its eyes with a sigh. Geralt furrowed his brow. Jaskier looked up at him with shinning eyes.

“I can see it’s not a cat. Why is it in our house?” He knelt down slowly, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at them both. Jaskier took a sip of his smoothie and set his cup down, clearly stalling for time.

“Okay so here’s the thing, a friend of mine owns an animal rescue. And their building is being renovated, because they’re expanding so they can help more little babies like her. So they had to foster all their animals out. It’s just for a little bit. And I did tell her that you might say no so she has someone else lined up if this little one needs somewhere else to go. I just thought… I don’t know. That we could help. For a bit.” He grimaces after his rapidly spoken rant, clearly waiting for Geralt to tell him no, waiting for him to tell him to get the rabbit out of the house. Geralt sighs and lowers himself fully onto the floor, crossing his legs.

“How long is a little while?” he sees light begin to shine behind Jaskier’s eyes.

“Two weeks, three at the most! And she’s trained and everything. She’s got a litter box and a big pen thing, I have it set up in my room right now. And my friend gave me food and everything so we don’t have to pay for anything out of pocket, just house her and keep her safe. She’s an older lady, she won’t be any trouble… I hope.” He smiles sheepishly at Geralt, his hand reaching out, fingertips brushing against Geralt’s knee before he thinks better of it and pulls his hand back. He’d been doing that a lot lately, reaching out for Geralt and then seeming to catch and stop himself. Geralt’s heart flinches in his chest every single time it happens, he can’t help the feeling that he wishes Jaskier wouldn’t stop himself.

“Three weeks.” Geralt affirmed. Jaskier nodded, watching him with patience, letting him think. He was good at that, or had _gotten_ good at it. Over the months he’d been here. Jaskier was… very much _not_ , the kind of person to think things through. He jumped into things head first and figured things out as he went. Geralt had a habit of silently thinking things through before doing anything. Jaskier had picked up on it almost immediately, and had not, not once, pushed Geralt to make any decisions faster. Sometimes he would even leave him to it, grabbing a book and reading or playing some music in his room, while Geralt thought. Geralt watched Jaskier’s fingers tapping against his own knee and looked at him.

“Okay.” He sighed. Jaskier’s smile shined at him, impossibly bright.

“Okay? Really? Are you sure cuz I don’t wanna pressure you into anything.” He held his hands up in front him, a gesture of surrender that wasn’t needed.

“I’m sure. Does she have a name?” he asked, his fingers beginning to itch as he watched the rabbit sleep.

“No. They don’t name them anymore.” His voice sounded sad, but there was a glint in eyes.

“Anymore?” he pressed the palm of his hand against the floor and moved his hand toward the rabbit slowly.

“Yeah. They kept getting… attached.” He sounded a little breathless, Geralt could feel his eyes on him. Geralt pressed just a little closer, his fingers finally reaching the fur on her back foot. Her head lifted again at the touch. She looked at Geralt for a moment and then moved to sniff him. Her nose twitching against his fingers, she pushed herself onto her feet, turned herself around and hopped over Jaskier’s leg, toward Geralt. She pressed herself into the space between them, squeezing through their legs and lowering herself down again. She wiggled, getting herself comfortable, and then dropped her head on Geralt’s knee, her eyes falling closed again. Geralt’s eyes were wide, he could feel them, his heart beating fast in chest at this small show of affection. He heard a small noise and looked up. Jaskier had his hand pressed to his mouth, his eyes shinning with- were those tears?

“Are you alright?” Geralt whispered, not wanting to raise his voice, worried he’d startle her. Jaskier wiped at his face, nodding and smiling.

“I’m fine I’m good. Sorry. It’s just so cute.” He waved his hand at Geralt, sniffling as he looked down at her resting between them. His eyes moved slowly up to look at Geralt, his tongue peeking out and running along his bottom lip before his teeth bit into it. He did reach out then, his hand falling carefully on Geralt’s arm. He looked at him, something swimming in those ocean eyes, and gave Geralt’s arm a gentle squeeze. Geralt looked back at him, and tried not to drown.

~*~

He was laying on the couch, book open on his chest, when he felt it. A gentle tapping on his leg. He moved his book to the side to see the rabbit, still nameless, standing up on her hind legs, her front paw smacking at his knee, her little head turned towards him, ears twitching. Geralt swallowed hard, he knew what she wanted. He’d seen her laying across Jaskier’s legs while he was laying here the other day. He looked around the room, checking for nonexistent eyes that might be watching him. He let his book fall onto his chest and moved his hand down his leg slowly. She shuffled to the side a bit, her neck stretching to nose at Geralt’s hand. He let her sniff him and then patted his knee. Once. She looked at him. Still a bit unsure.

“It’s alright. Come on.” He encouraged, voice quiet, not quite a whisper, and patted his leg again. She was on him in an instant. Her big paws gently moving herself around his thighs. Her claws poked him a few times, but only just, she was so careful. Picking her paws up in small steps, shuffling in a circle before settling on his knees. She lay on her tummy as he watched her. She looked around the room for a moment and then pushed herself onto her side, resting her head on her paws. Geralt felt warmth spread from his knees up to his chest, a smile tugged at his lips and he let it spread. He reached his hand down, fingers pressing into the fur at the side of her neck.

“He’s right you know. You are very cute.” Her eyes shut slowly as he moved his fingers through her soft, thick fur.

“You like it here with us?” he asked, she pressed her head into his hand.

“Hmm. We like having you.” He assured, moving his thumb over the top of her head between her large ears, giving them a scratch before moving back to his book. The warmth she carried with her seeped into him, his eyelids began to droop, eyes no longer moving over the words in front of him. He slid his finger between the pages of his book, keeping his place, and let the book rest on his chest. He closed his eyes, just to rest them, only for a moment, and drifted off to sleep.

He hears the front door open. He hears Jaskier stumble in. Hears him struggle to get his key out of the door. And keeps his eyes shut.

“Honey, I’m home!” Jaskier calls, his voice quiet in the fading light of the living room. Geralt shoves down a shiver. He knows Jaskier is talking to the rabbit. He’s been saying it since she came to stay with them. He bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to focus on the fact that his life has led him to a place where he’s jealous of a rabbit. He feels her shift on his knees, but feels her settle again.

“Guys?” Jaskier calls softly, Geralt can hear him walking further into the room, his boots squeaking softly as he walks toward them. And he keeps his eyes shut.

He hears Jaskier gasp when he sees them, and hears him digging in his pocket, no doubt looking for his phone.

“Oh for fucks sake.” He breaths, clearly struggling to get his phone out.

“Hi sweetie, are you and daddy number two sleeping?” he’s whispering, the quietest Geralt has ever heard his voice. Geralt has to bite the inside of his cheek again to stop from smiling, knowing how hard Jaskier must be trying not to wake him. The back of his eyelids glow, only for a second, and then go dark again. There’s a tug in his chest knowing Jaskier now has a photo of him sleeping on his phone, the tug grows stronger knowing Jaskier _wants_ a photo of him sleeping on his phone.

He feels Jaskier lean down. The corner of his flannel brushing against Geralt’s face briefly as he reaches over him to pet the rabbit in his lap. He can hear him whispering nonsense to her, feels him lean down further to press a kiss to her head, and tries his hardest not to smile. And keeps his eyes closed.

“One for you.” He hears him whisper, feels him pull back, the flannel disappearing from his face with a small breeze as Jaskier passes back over him. He feels the arm of the couch below his head dip as Jaskier frames his head with his hands, Geralt can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his heart beat moving to his ears as he listens to Jaskier bend down again. He feels the gentlest press of lips against his forehead, the briefest brush of skin against skin.

“And one for you.” Jaskier whispers, and then he’s gone. The contented scent of him lingering behind in a cloud around Geralt’s head, assaulting his senses as he lies in the dark. He listens to Jaskier shuffle around in the kitchen, still doing his best not to wake him, and hears him walk to his room, humming softly to himself as he closes the door behind him. Geralt opens his eyes when he hears his door click shut, his hand moving to the fur of the rabbit still cozy on his knees, letting her ground him. He looks down at her, sighing when she gives him a knowing look.

He lies in the dark. His heart pounding in his chest, his skin burning from the kiss Jaskier had given him. Such a small thing, the smallest press of lips to his skin, but it felt heavy in the dark. Like Jaskier had dropped a weight on him. Not _dropped_ really, Jaskier would never drop anything too heavy on him, he’d lay it on him gently, making sure he could take the weight before giving it to Geralt fully. Geralt couldn’t know this, not really, but he knew Jaskier. And he knew Jaskier had thought he was sleeping. And he knew one more thing.

He knew how often he’d fallen asleep on this couch. And how often Jaskier had come home late. And how often he’d woken with blankets covering him. Geralt lay in the dark, his fingers digging gently into thick fur, his heart pounding at the thought of Jaskier having pressed his lips against him before. Maybe more than once. Maybe several times. And he’d missed them all. Because he’d been wrong before, he didn’t just know one more thing. He knew two. The other thing he knew, as he lay in the dark, skin burning from the contact Jaskier had given him, was the it had seemed natural to Jaskier. Like he’d done it before. A swift but gentle press of lips, the ghost of a kiss that could be, the ghost of kisses that had been. There was a practiced familiar feeling to it.

Geralt lay in the dark and let himself smile at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's a Flemish Giant Rabbit. A big sweet girl! i hope you like her! and i hope you enjoy these two soft boys being sweet. because there is....some more angst coming. But also some smut! that i can promise! its just gonna be a mix of everything guys it'll be fun!!!
> 
> also, yes, that is an iCarly meme reference/redo/thing. i love that meme and i though it was perfect and so it happened! i hope you liked it guys!!!! as always nice comments are appreciated!!! <<33


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****WARNING***there is slight torture in the chapter, and mentions of torture. and jaskier being hurt so please beware of that and if it's too much for you i will gladly give anyone who needs one like a little...chapter briefing type thing. Its not horribly graphic, but i know it can be a sensitive subject so just be safe my darlings! 
> 
> I opened the chapter with some fluff to try and like...ease into the pain. i dont know if that makes it better or worse! either way i apologize! hahaha!

They keep the rabbit.

It’s Geralt’s fault.

Inadvertently.

They’d been sitting on the floor, Jaskier pressed against the window with her pressed up between his legs, her favorite spot to be. She was always on their legs, no matter where they were. Sitting on the couch? She was on their thighs. Sitting at the table? She’d press herself between their feet. Lying in bed? She’d taken it upon herself to curl up between them. Or, on most nights now, she’d curl up in Jaskier’s bed with him. On those nights. Jaskier stayed in his room. Geralt shoved his jealously deeper each night the opposite side of his bed remained cold. She kept Jaskier from screaming himself awake. Most nights. And for that Geralt managed to shove the jealousy away. She did what he did, and together, he supposed they’d keep him safe. And sane, if the gods willed it.

Her face had been pressed against his thigh, nose snuffling against the dark wooden floor, Jaskier’s fingers buried deep behind her ears as he smiled lovingly down at her. Geralt looked up over his book, his legs stretched out on the couch as he looked down at them.

“Little cockroach isn’t spoiled at all is she?”

Jaskier’s head shot up, his mouth dropped open in shock.

“Geralt!” he pressed the rabbit’s ears gently back onto her head, trying to keep her from hearing.

“You cannot call our child a cockroach! What is wrong with you?” his voice was full of drama, but Geralt could see it, the way his lips where curving, twitching at the sides, waiting to jump into a smile.

“That… creature.”, Jaskier gasped and pressed her ears down a bit more.

“Chewed through my favorite pair of slippers last week. I can call her what I like.” Jaskier’s mouth dropped open again. Geralt quirked his eyebrow at him and he closed it again, finally releasing her ears and petting her head, Geralt looked back to his book and then heard Jaskier snort. His eyes moved slowly back up.

“Your favorite pair of slippers.” Jaskier wasn’t really talking to him. He was muttering to himself. He did this a lot, Geralt found it endlessly entertaining, and probably more endearing than he should.

“Yes. So I’ll call her a cockroach and she’ll accept passively. The way she accepts most things.” Geralt gave Jaskier a knowing look and then a smile when he laughed and shook his head. His attentions back on the rabbit.

“How bout it? You wanna be a cockroach? A little roachy roach.” Jaskier said, his voice in pet mode, and then he gasped again and looked up at Geralt, who resolutely had _not_ been staring.

“Oh my god! That’s what we should call her!” his hands flailed near his head, the rabbit against his leg gave no sign that she had even heard the shout.

“Hmm?” Geralt questioned.

“Roach! Cuz you called her cockroach! And! Oh ho ho aaaannnd! She has a little white spot on her back foot that I swear looks just like a little bug! Oh my god Geralt! It’s perfect!” the amusement and contentment rolling off him in waves was intoxicating. Geralt took a deep breath and clenched his fist behind his thigh, keeping it from Jaskier’s view. Jaskier dug his fingers deep into the rabbit’s fur and pulled her close. She let herself be moved by him like a ragdoll, her paws curling gently onto his shoulder.

“Geralt you’ve named our child! The heavens will finally be appeased!” Geralt couldn’t help but smile at his dramatics. His stomach fluttering at the second mention of her being _their_ child.

“Do you know what this means Geralt!?! Have you any. Feasible. Idea?” he let her down and punctuated his words with slaps to the floor as he crawled awkwardly toward Geralt, his eyes shining. Geralt grumbled and rolled his eyes, trying to hide behind his book. The book was quickly pulled away, Jaskier’s finger fluidly marking his place as he tugged the book out of his hands.

“What?” Geralt sighed, he needed this to be over. Jaskier was so close to him, and he smelled so… happy. Geralt thought he might pass out. Jaskier leaned closer, Geralt repressed a groan. Jaskier leaned down so that his chin was resting on Geralt’s arm and smiled, wild eyed, up at him.

“Whaaat?” Geralt said again, his voice drawing out the word the way he’d heard Jaskier do a thousand times before.

“We have to keep her now. You named her.” He whispered, his slender fingers walking up Geralt’s shoulder and then poking him in the nose. Geralt looked at him. The smile on Jaskier’s face faltered and he pulled back a bit, his hand resting on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I mean. Or not. I was… just kidding. Kind of. Can we keep her please?” his voice dancing upwards as he began to beg. Geralt moved his eyes from Jaskier to the rabbit, Roach, who was now stretched out in a sunspot on the floor, and then slowly moved them back to find even Jaskier’s _eyes_ pleading. Geralt moved his eyes between them once more and then nodded. Jaskier looked at him, his head tilting like he wasn’t sure what he’d seen.

“She can stay.” He sighed, moving to grab his book back from Jaskier. He moved it quickly out of reach again and then threw himself bodily across Geralt’s chest, an awkward attempt at a hug in their off-kilter positions.

“Oh thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!” he gushed, giving Geralt a squeeze before pulling away and setting the book pages down on Geralt’s chest, his place easily saved. And then he was back across the room, laying flat on his stomach as he pressed his face into Roach’s fur, her feet twitching as he jostled her. Geralt lifted his book and pretended to read.

“Did you hear that lovely? Not only do you have a name, but you have a home now too!” Jaskier whispered into her side, his fingers gently playing with her big ears.

“You get to stay here with us. You’re a rescue now dearest… Just like me.” His voice had dropped lower, the softest it had been since the night he’d come home to them both sleeping on the couch. Geralt watched him sigh and snuggle closer to her, his face pressing deeper into her as they lay in the sun. Geralt felt a pressure in his chest, a deep aching beneath his ribs, and wondered if maybe, just maybe, this was what true happiness felt like.

~*~

Three months.

That’s how long it takes for Geralt’s happy life to be shattered and ripped from beneath him.

Three. Months.

He opens the door to their building and has his senses assaulted by the stench of fear. Jaskier’s fear. He runs up the stairs three at a time, his chest burning as he reaches the top and sees their door knocked off its hinges. He pulls his dagger from his boot, twirling it easily into position and walks slowly inside. The smell of fear is overwhelming. He pushes it aside, forcing himself to concentrate. He listens closely, the silence pressing against his eardrums as he stalks through his own home.

His eyes land on the wall. And the message left there for him. And his heart nearly stops in his chest.

**IF YOU WANT YOUR LITTLE MONSTER BACK**

**COME AND FIND HIM**

The dark red letters dripping sinisterly in the dark. Geralt’s heart jumps into his throat when he realizes that the letters look like blood. His hands start shaking as he turns around in the dark.

“Roach.” His voice is hoarse, barely clawing its way out of his mouth as he breathes heavily into the silence of the room. He takes a few steps, his feet carrying him forward on their own volition.

“Roach!” he’s walking faster now, his boots loud on the floor of their hallway.

“Jaskier! Roach! Where are you?” he calls, he knows Jaskier won’t answer, knows Roach can’t. But he calls for them anyway, it’s all that he has.

He steps into Jaskier’s room and can hear her heart beating, fast, faster than normal. She’s not in her pin, it’s been tossed aside, clearly having been thrown into the wall, it lies shattered on the ground, along with Jaskier’s guitar. There’s a different smell in the air here, if Geralt hadn’t known Jaskier so well he didn’t think he’d be able to place it. It’s a difficult scent to pin down, but he _does_ know Jaskier, and he knows this scent.

Defiance.

Jaskier had fought. And fought hard. His guitar shattered on the floor. Geralt scans the room quickly and sees his keyboard laying in the corner, bent at a strange angle. He’d used the things he loved more than anything to fight for himself, and no doubt, Roach.

Geralt drops to his hands and knees slowly. Lowering himself down to look under Jaskier’s bed. She was there, cowering against the wall, eyes shinning at him. He could see her sides moving rapidly, she was terrified. Geralt couldn’t tell if she was hurt though, he needed to get her out.

“Hey sweetie. Roach. It’s me darling. It’s Geralt. Can you-“ she was scurrying toward him before the request was out of his mouth, her claws scratching on the wood floor as she moved franticly to him. He reached out for her, scooping her up and pulling her close. She clung to him, her paws pressing into his shoulder as she trembled in his arms. He shushed her, moving his hand slowly over her back until her breathing calmed, subtly pressing harder here and there to asses any possible damage, resolutely ignoring the patch of stickiness in her fur. She didn’t flinch or whine and he was easily swayed that she, at least, was alright.

He carried her to his room and shut the door, turning the light on and dropping onto his bed. He let her crawl out of his arms and lie on the bed, she pressed against his leg, not wanting to leave him. There was a dark spot on her back, her fur sticking up in stuck together tufts, Geralt moved his hand over it, pressing the fur flat. His heart dropped when he saw the clear handprint that had been left on her. A hand print of blood. Geralt closed his eyes, breathed deep, and tried to shove away the fact that the blood smelled like Jaskier.

“Yennefer.” He whispered it. Just her name. The way she’d told him to do if he ever needed her. He’d never done it before. Never had too. But he needed her. He couldn’t do this by himself. He was too close to the situation. And he needed to find Jaskier, now. He feels the air shift and opens his eyes, the portal opens seconds later, right before him, Yennefer and Renfri walk through, both holding the daggers he’d given them the Christmas before.

“What’s going on?” Yennefer asks, eyes bright, Renfri stands ready at her side, her eyes widen when they land on Roach, she clocks the blood quickly.

“They took him.” Geralt says. And he tries to keep his voice even. But it shakes, and it’s hollow, and he needs help. He looks up at Yennefer, doing his best to ask for help without asking for help.

“They took him.” He says again. He can’t seem to find any other words. Those three words are all that’s in his head. He watched Yennefer snarl and rip the door open, he hears her stomp down the hall as Renfri kneels in front of him, her hand on his knee. She says nothing. She knows she doesn’t have to. She sits there, comforting Geralt as best she can, and she waits for Yennefer to return to them. She soars back into the room on a wave of crackling energy, her eyes blazing.

“The message on the wall isn’t blood. It’s paint. But there is blood. Other places. In his room. In the living room. It’s not a lot. Probably just a bloody nose. And not all of it’s his.” Her voice is forcibly even, trying to console Geralt even as she fumes, a small smirk painting her lips knowing that he’d fought.

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” She’s pacing the room now, her outward appearance matching the feelings roiling inside him. He watches Renfri close her eyes and take a deep breath and knows she’s shoving emotions down, she’ll deal with them later, it’s how she works. Geralt shakes his head, and then blinks, his eyes locked on Yennefer.

“What?”

“His parents. They were killed.” He chokes out, his throat tight, he clears his throat. Yennefer’s eyes have gone soft, at the tone of his voice or the mention of Jaskier’s past horrors, he doesn’t know.

“Hunters. Monster hunters.” He says, taking a deep shaking breath.

“If you want your little monster back.” Yennefer growls, low in her throat as she quotes the message on the wall. She moves to kneel next Renfri in one fluid motion, her hand landing on Geralt’s cheek as she looks up at him.

“Listen to me. I know that you’re feeling lost right now. And I understand. We’re all feeling rattled. But I need you to focus.” She pats his cheek firmly. The soft smack to his cheek bringing him back to himself a bit. He blinks down at her, his head clearing slowly as the smell of Jaskier’s blood floods his senses again, he moves his fingers into Roach’s fur and looks back to his friends. The two strongest women he knows look back at him, eyes shining bright with fury.

“Let’s go get him back.” Renfri snarled, her teeth bared and eyes burning. Geralt looks at them, his two closest friends, ready to fight beside him for the most important thing he’s ever had, and he stands. They move back in unison, both standing and stepping back. Geralt looks at them a moment longer, his chest burning with pride and aching with worry as he walks to his weapons case and tosses the lid back.

~*~

It only takes two hours to find him.

Less, really. Yennefer takes some of his blood. Does some kind of spell. And has his location in minutes. It takes them two hours to get there. Yennefer tried to portal but something was blocking her. Renfri shrugged, grabbed a few more knives from Geralt’s case, and marched out the door. She drives them, features still calm. Geralt sits in the back seat, watching Renfri’s still face, and Yennefer’s twitchy fingers, and knows he’s looking at the literal embodiment of the calm before the storm.

The warehouse is dark when they pull up. Geralt can hear several heartbeats. One beating very _very_ fast. His knuckles go white around the handle of his knife. Renfri shuts the lights off, kills the engine, and looks back at Geralt, beside her, Yennefer turns to him as well.

“Shall we?” they ask, in unison. Geralt grunts, nods, and shoves his door open.

He opts to walk straight through the front door. Figures that, as distractions go, that one’s pretty good, a classic even. He kicks the door in, easily, and lets his eyes adjust to the lights inside. It’s dim, and dark. One bright light shines in the middle of the warehouse, swinging in slow circles above a chair. Geralt’s skin crawls, like electricity crawling down his back. Jaskier is in the chair, his eyes wide and shining as he looks at Geralt. He’s covered in bruises, one eye starting to swell shut, his bottom lip looks split, and Geralt tightens his grasp again when he realizes that one of Jaskier’s lip rings is missing. There’s blood dripping down his chin and Geralt’s heart skips a beat when he realizes that there’s a gag shoved between his, sharper than usual, teeth. The tight straps cutting into his cheeks where they wrap around his head. He feels his own lips part in a snarl and stalks forward.

“Ah ah ah,” a voice in the dark admonishes, Geralt pauses.

“Not so fast _Witcher_.” And there it is, that biting tone digging into the word that people throw at him like a weapon. His knuckles are white on his dagger handle, his lips curl dangerously when he sees Jaskier glare at the man for speaking to Geralt that way. Having been beaten and gagged and still defiant.

“Can I help you?” Geralt asks the four men who walk out of the shadows, two standing near Jaskier, two walking toward him. He can hear more heart beats in the dark, but that’s where they stay for the moment.

“Sure. All you have to do is kill the siren. Like you should have when you found him. And we’ll let you leave.” One of the men near Jaskier says, his hand coming down hard on Jaskier’s shoulder, making him flinch violently in the chair he’s bound to. Geralt can’t help but notice the rather large gash on the man’s face, and the accompanying bruise, his chest fills with pride at the thought of Jaskier slamming his keyboard into the man’s head. He watches the mans fingers dig into Jaskier’s shoulder and hears him whimper, a wet sound around the gag and the blood in his mouth.

“ _You’ll_ let _me_ leave?” Geralt asks with a smirk, moving forward a few steps, slowly, lowering his dagger to his side, grip steady.

“Yes. We will. After you do your fucking job.” Another man shoots back, missing the mockery Geralt had tossed at them. And that was fine. Let them think they have the upper hand. They wouldn’t have any hands at all soon enough. He moves a step to the right and stands still, save for a head tilt, looking at the two men still walking slowly toward him.

“I do wonder how he swayed you.” The man on the right said, folding his arms over his chest and looking Geralt up and down.

“Though, we know what he is, not so hard to figure it out I suppose. I just didn’t think a big strong Witcher would be so affected by something like him.” The other man scoffed, nodding his head back at Jaskier. The man next to Jaskier shoved his hand against Jaskier’s head roughly, pushing his neck at a terrible angle, Jaskier flinched away and then glared up at the man, eyes full of fire.

“Something like him.” Geralt repeated, voice low. Dangerous. The men nodded, moving a step closer still. Geralt had to give them credit, they were brave. Or more likely they were stupid. Those two where often mistaken for each other, and Geralt found that whether it was bravery or stupidity that spurred men onwards, they died just as easily either way. 

“Yeah. Ya know. A siren. A monster.” He spat the word, and then literally spat, on the ground at Geralt’s feet. The men were ever so close now, Geralt would only need to take two or three steps to get to them. And he _would_ get to them.

“But ya know now that I think about it. I guess it makes sense that you people would flock together.” The man chided, smiling. Smiling at Geralt like Geralt wasn’t holding his life at the end of a sharp blade.

“Not that we can really call you a person though, am I right?” He nudged the man next to him at that, a laugh actually daring to pass his lip. Jaskier snarled against his gag, blood bubbling through his pointed teeth as he glared at the man who stood so close to Geralt, insulting him.

“Aww, I think you’ve upset the little monster.” The man on Jaskier’s left said, amusement in his voice. Jaskier bared his teeth again and glared up at him, the man slammed his fist into Jaskier’s cheek, his head snapping to the side and hanging against his chest for a moment before he looked back up again, shaking his head. Geralt swears he sees Jaskier’s skin shimmer, like moonlight dancing on water.

“Seriously though, how did he get you? He tell you a little sob story about his parents?” The man who had spat asked, turning back to Geralt, looking him up and down again. Geralt’s eyes moved to Jaskier, briefly, his features softened, his eyes pleading as he looked at Geralt. Geralt knew what he was thinking, Jaskier was worried that he’d believe these men. Believe them over him. Geralt’s heart sank. He’d had enough. He moved his eyes back to the men in front of him, and moved his body in the same instant. His hand moving to shove his dagger deep into one of their necks, his leg moving to kick the other, his foot connecting with his knee swiftly. 

The warehouse filled with an ear-splitting scream as the mans knee collapsed backwards, he fell to the floor, hands reaching for his leg. Geralt moved his hand back, his dagger withdrawing with a sickening wet sound, the man, now just a body, fell to the floor in a crumple of limbs. The doors at the other end of the warehouse burst open, Yennefer and Renfri stalking through it, the air crackling around them. A few more men stalked out of the shadows. Renfri and Geralt rounded on them, spinning and swaying effortlessly through and around them, dropping them easily.

Yennefer waved her hand toward Jaskier, the bindings on his hands and feet sprang free as the two men near him launched themselves at Yennefer. She held her hand out in front of her, her face creased with concentration. She held one man in place, the other was suddenly shoved to the ground as Jaskier tackled him from behind, a grunt leaving him as he slammed bodily in the man. Yennefer flicked her fingers and the man she had hold of was dead in an instant, falling to the ground with a thud. Renfri and Geralt dispatched of the last few men and then turned to see what Yennefer was looking at.

She stood over Jaskier, and the man with a gash on his face. Jaskier was straddling him, his slender fingers wrapped around the man’s throat. Geralt stepped forward, intending to stop him, but Yennefer pressed her hand into his chest. She shook her head at him, and let her eyes fall back to Jaskier as her hand fell from his chest. Geralt watched as Jaskier struggled. The man under him clawing and pushing at Jaskier’s face, trying to shove him off. Jaskier released his neck for a moment, slamming his fist into the man’s face three times in quick succession, his skin shimmering again with ever blow, and then wrapping them tightly around his neck once more. There was blood dripping down his chin, staining his skin a sickly red. His teeth were bared again, sharp and still covered in blood as well. He was doing his best to yell at the man, gag not letting him speak, but sounds, sounds moved around the gag with now problem. Garbled shrieks clawed their way out around the gag and the blood in his mouth as he choked the remnants of life out of the man beneath him.

Geralt could see the tears falling down his face. The man twitched beneath Jaskier, his legs kicking and then stilling. The frustrated screams from Jaskier died away, fell into a stream of sobs, choked out of him as he choked the man under him. Geralt watched the man twitch a few more times and then still. Pushing down the feelings watching Jaskier choke the life out of someone had stirring inside him, a low pulse near his groin. He moved forward, kneeling next to Jaskier and wrapping his fingers gently around Jaskier’s wrists, pulling him away from the man. Jaskier startled, his entire body shaking and flinching away from Geralt. Geralt gave his wrists a squeeze and moved one hand to Jaskier’s cheek, guiding his head up to look at him.

“It’s okay. It’s me. I’m here.” He whispered, his own voice sounding shattered as he spoke. Jaskier’s eyes seemed to clear as he looked at Geralt. He blinked hard, twice, and then whined and lurched forward, his arms wrapping around Geralt’s neck and pulling him close. Geralt held him, arms wrapped tightly around him, as he trembled against him. Jaskier pulled back suddenly, almost jerking himself away from Geralt, he was tugging at the straps on the gag, his fingers clawing at his own face trying to free himself. Geralt looked to Yennefer, she snapped her fingers and the gag was gone. Jaskier whined again and sagged, his shoulder drooping, hands gently touching his face, avoiding his ruined lip. His eyes moved to Geralt, his fingers still pressed against the raw lines on his face.

“Thank you.” He breathed, his voice rough, the way it had been the night he met Yennefer.

“For what?” Geralt frowned, had Jaskier really thought he wouldn’t come for him. Jaskier moved his hand to Geralt’s cheek, the blood stains on his knuckles standing out on his pale skin.

“For not being tempted to believe them.” He whispered, that soft smile Geralt liked so much curling his blood smeared lips. His eyes where full of something that Geralt didn’t have time to analyze right now. His chest was full of heat, a terrible pressure pushed against his rib cage as he looked at Jaskier, so close, and out of harms way.

“And for bringing the calvary.” He smiled, grimacing at the pull on his lip and nodded toward Renfri and Yen. Geralt looked up to see them standing there, looking down at them, arms wrapped around each other, soft expressions on their faces. Geralt felt his cheeks burn, the heat running down his neck as he stood and extended his hand to Jaskier. Jaskier took it and let himself be yanked to his feet, Geralt catching him easily when he over corrected and swayed forward too far. Jaskier grinned at him, a half grin, not moving the right side of his mouth, trying not to irritate the split. Geralt’s hand moved to touch him, to sooth the hurt, but he made a fist instead and clenched it at his side.

“You’re welcome.” Geralt grunted, he could feel the heat creeping into his ears. And Jaskier was giving him some kind of look, his ocean eyes shinning in the single light in the warehouse.

“Can we go home now?” Jaskier asked, his voice quiet, he sounded like a child. Yennefer laughed through her nose and nodded, moving forward to pull him into a quick hug. Renfri wrapped her arms around him as well, hugging him quickly and carefully and then letting go.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed, moving to wrap his arm around Jaskier’s waist, pulling his arm over his shoulder, helping him walk. Jaskier grimaced at the movement and let Geralt hold his weight and guide him.

They walk to the car in silence. The only sounds in the evening air their footsteps in the gravel and their car doors opening and shutting behind them. The drive is silent too, save for the sounds of Jaskier’s slightly wheezy breathing next to him. They hit a bump at one point and Jaskier grimaces before letting his head fall onto Geralt’s shoulder.

“You know what would be amazing right now?” Jaskier asks, his fingers playing with a rip in the knee of Geralt’s pants.

“Hmm?” Geralt inclines his head towards him, knows he can’t see it, doesn’t really care.

“A milkshake. A gigantic, horribly huge, like, disgustingly large, milkshake.” He sighed, his head pressing into Geralt’s shoulder harder as he tried to get comfortable. Geralt smiled down at him, his stomach fluttering as Jaskier’s eyelids did the same. He listened to Jaskier’s heart calm, his breathing even out and slow, as he relaxed into his side. That pressure was behind his ribs again, shoving at them like it was trying to get free. He moved his hand up and rubbed at his chest, trying to figure out if it was a pleasant feeling, or something he should be guarding against. Jaskier hummed sleepily into his shoulder, the thing behind his ribs pulsed and hummed back.

And he decided he liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! those of you who keep coming back for each chapter i see you i love you you're amazing and wonderful thank you so much! sorry for any mistakes, i have been working long shifts and i also came home and finally had some left over energy so i scrubbed my bathroom like a maniac today and i've been working nights and its far past my bedtime but i neeeeeeded to get this updated for you guys!!! and thats more than you needed to know but i get chatty when i'm tired! i hope you liked it darlings! There will be AT LEAST one more chapter!!!! <<<333


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit more angst in here, and there's a pretty detailed description of some dead bodies. Full disclosure it's Jaskier's parents. not a spoiler cuz you know they're dead already. If you've been reading from the beginning, if not... sorry. but like... there's emotional baggage there and i wanted to warn you guys! be safe in reading!!! <<<333

Jaskier is unconscious for four days. They’d taken him to the hospital. Yennefer had been unsure of the extent of his injuries and hadn’t wanted to cause any more harm by a healing spell going awry. So they’d taken him to the only hospital they could, one that not only treated humans but supernatural creatures and non-humans as well. An old friend of Yennefer’s, Triss, met them at the door. Jaskier had been groaning in Geralt’s arms, no longer able to hold himself up. Triss had moved her hand slowly over him, her eyes closed, brow creased with focus, assessing the damaging. He’d moaned when her hand moved over his ribs, curling into Geralt’s chest, trying to escape the pain. She’d opened her eyes, moved her hand to settle over his eyes, and put him to sleep.

He’d been in bed for four days, not moving, just sleeping and healing. Geralt had requested a room with a view for him, on the chance that he’d woken up early, or while one of them wasn’t there. They’d been taking turns watching over him, taking it in shifts. Renfri had made them. Geralt had had every intention of staying with him until he woke up. No matter how long it took. But Renfri had refused to let him stay longer than eight hours. She’d come into the room, with food for Geralt, from his favorite place, and had kicked him out. Geralt had fussed but Renfri had threatened to send Yennefer after him, so he’d gone home and tried to rest.

He’d cleaned their apartment. The message on the wall had taken some magic-ing but he’d gotten it all off. He’d cleaned up Jaskier’s room as well. But no amount of magic would help him replace his instruments, he’d tried. There was something about them that wouldn’t allow his magic to touch them. He supposed that maybe Jaskier had done something to them, had them charmed somehow. He made a mental note to ask him about it. He took the broken pieces out of Jaskier’s room and stashed them in his own room, in case Jaskier had a way to fix them. He didn’t want to put it past him.

He fixed Roach’s pen, only a few screws had been knocked loose. Then he drug it out into the living room, so she could have more space, and so that Jaskier could as well. Roach slept in his bed with him, the small amount he did sleep. And he kissed her head before he left, telling her he’d give her love to her dad. Dad number one, as Jaskier had taken to calling himself. She hopped after him to the door, sitting on her hind legs and watching him as he closed the door behind him.

Four agonizing days of silence. And then he woke up. Geralt had been dozing in the chair next to his bed when he’d heard his name. A whisper in his dreams. And then he’d startled awake to see two heavily medicated eyes looking at him. He leaned forward so quickly that the chair almost tipped him off onto the floor. His hand grabbing the bed in front of him for balance.

“Jaskier.” He smiled, he couldn’t help it, those blue eyes were open again and that pressure behind his ribs was pounding out a rhythm against them like a drum. Jaskier’s lips twitched into a small smile, his eye lids already drooping again. He lifted his hand, holding the back to Geralt, he moved his other hand to gently tap the IV line.

“This… is not the milkshake I requested.” He mumbles, voice groggy like his eyes. Geralt reaches out, his fingers settling on Jaskier’s arm when he drops it to the bed.

“Sorry. I’ll work on it.” he moves his thumb over Jaskier’s arm and watched his tired eyes track the motion as they blink slowly. They move back to Geralt’s face, still slow, and he hears him gasp, his mouth drops open the smallest amount.

“What? What’s wrong?” Geralt asks, worried he’d hurt him somehow, his hand moving away from Jaskier’s arm reluctantly.

“Those are… the _prettiest_ eyes.” He murmurs, sounding breathless through his exhaustion. Geralt feels heat crawl over his skin as Jaskier’s blue eyes stare into his, apparently pretty, yellow ones. He does his best to meet Jaskier’s gaze but fails. He clears his throat and looks away. He pushes himself to standing and pretends not to see the way Jaskier’s fingers reach out for him briefly before he walks to the window.

“I made sure you had a nice view, in case you woke up alone.” He clears his throat again, hearing the way his voice shakes.

“It’s a great view.” He hears Jaskier sigh, glancing at him, his skin burns again when he finds Jaskier resolutely _not_ looking out the window, his eyes on Geralt’s ass, his mouth crooked with a content smile. Geralt moves his eyes back to the window, looking at the birdhouse someone had hung in the garden. He hears Jaskier sigh behind him and turns. His eyes are closed again, his chest rising and falling slowly. Geralt takes a deep breath and sighs himself, never thinking he’d be relieved about Jaskier having fallen back into sleep.

Renfri comes by for lunch. Once again bringing food for them both. She hates hospital food and refuses to let anyone eat it if she can help it. She drops the bag of food down gently in the corner and gives Geralt a small wave before reaching in and unpacking the food she’s brought.

“How’s he doing today? Anything new?” She asks, holding a foil wrapped burrito in each hand, clearly weighing them before deciding which one she’s going to take. She looks over her shoulder at him when he doesn’t answer.

“Geralt?” She looks at him for a moment, and sets the food down.

“What happened?” her voice is serious, and he can see worry creeping into her eyes.

“Nothing, sorry. He woke up earlier on. And he-“ Geralt stopped himself, he shouldn’t tell her. He knew what she’d do. She never let it go. And then she’d tell Yen, and he’d never hear the end of it.

“He what?” She prodded, her attention seemingly moving back to the food, but he could see the set of her shoulders, she was listening carefully.

“He just… talked. For a bit. Not a lot. Just a few things.” Geralt said, doing his best to avoid the actual conversation that took place.

“And what did he say?” she asked, still not looking at him. He can feel his skin burning again, the heat moving up his neck and into his ears. He stays silent too long and she turns to him again. Her eyes meet his, and travel over his face, and he sees them ignite with amusement.

“Oh my god. What did he say?” the smile on her lips is full of mischief as she saunters toward him, the food she’d been sorting quickly forgotten.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Geralt mutters, standing before she can reach him and moving to the window. A poor attempt to run from her. Her hands fall on his shoulders heavily and turn him back to her easily.

“Look at you.” She laughs with a snort, hands moving to her hips as she smiles at him.

“What?” he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest, not liking the way she’s looking at him. Because he knows she can see it. And he doesn’t want her too.

“That.” She says, her hand reaching out and poking his cheek. He swats at her hand and she laughs again, he can feel himself wanting to smile. His chest feeling light. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if she knew. If he told her. If he said it out loud. He bit his lip and fought the urge, shoved it down again, and felt it growling behind his ribs.

“Come now it’s clear on your face, you look like a beet! What did he say to you that’s got you looking like a nervous maiden of old?” she’s laughing again, arms wrapping around herself as she tries to at least hold the laughter at bay.

“Nothing. Leave it.” he grumbles, looking to his feet.

“Oh please! I swear I won’t tell!” she clasps her hands in front her, begging him with those big puppy dog eyes of hers.

“Renfri.” Geralt admonishes, giving her a look. She wilts, hands falling at her sides, shoulders drooping, a pout on her lips.

“Ugh, fine.” She sighs, turning away and going back to the food. She throws herself into the chair and kicks the other chair with her foot, moving it out for Geralt to sit across from her. He sits slowly, both of them eating and glancing at Jaskier off and on. He’s taking a drink when she finally decides to speak again.

“Well whatever it was, it must have been good. To have you looking like that.” She smirks over her own drink at him, pulling the straw between her teeth and grinning around it like the asshole she is.

“Hmm.” Geralt rumbles, rolling his eyes and looking away from her. His eyes betray him again and land on Jaskier, his lips curve of their own volition and he smiles at him, though he still sleeps. Renfri snorts across from him and he kicks her out of the room. She laughs as she leaves, a knowing look in her eyes that Geralt finds absolutely, unequivocally, terrifying.

Yennefer comes by for dinner to take his place. She says nothing about Jaskier waking up and speaking to him, doesn’t try to pry anything from him. So either Renfri didn’t tell her, or she’s waiting for the moment to spring it on him. Either way his nerves are on edge.

“I found something.” She says, setting her fork down on her empty plate. Clearly having been waiting to bring it up. Geralt continues chewing, though slowly, and furrows his brow in question.

“About the men who took Jaskier.” She elaborates. Geralt swallows hard, nearly choking, and sets his own fork down on the table, what’s left of his dinner forgotten.

“Who were they?” he asks, moving his hands against his thighs, worry setting in and making his palms sweat.

“Well, I can’t vouch for all of them, I think quite a few of them were just random local hired muscle. But a few them, the ones you talked to, and the one’s that stayed near Jaskier. I think they were the main guys. The founders I guess you could say. They’ve been hunting for a while. Leaving a bloody path behind them as they go.” She pulls something out of her bag, a file. Geralt reaches for it but she pulls it out of his reach.

“I think they killed his parents Geralt.” She says, blunt, and quiet, glancing at Jaskier with a pained expression. Geralt feels his heart speed up, it pounds in his ears and against his ribs.

“I’m not supposed to have this. And I probably shouldn’t show it to you. But I know that Jaskier has told you things. About what happened to him. And you’ll be able to tell if this is them. The names are different in the file but I think he may have changed his name. To stay safe.” Geralt nearly flinches back from her, she follows him, her hand going to his knee quickly.

“I will never tell anyone any of this. The men are dead, I checked, there were no other known associates among them. I just think it’s best we know for sure.” she widens her eyes, waiting for Geralt to confirm that this is okay. He nods. Once. And she hands him the file. He goes to open it and her hand covers his, stopping him again.

“What’s in that file is… terrible. Even for us.” She gives him a pointed look, squeezes his hand, and walks to the window to give him space. Geralt takes a deep breath and opens the file.

Bile rises in his throat as his eyes scan the pictures. A man’s body, horribly mangled, lying on a carpeted floor in dark pools of blood, his limbs are at odd angles. He looks like a rag doll that’s been tossed aside. Jaskier’s father. Geralt’s heart aches as he looks at the pictures, the man’s light hair, matted to his head, his eyes empty. His arm is stretched out in front of him, the only limb on his body that looks normal, fingers splayed out on the carpet, like he’d been reaching for something he’d never live to touch.

Geralt turned the page. His hand going to his mouth as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

The woman in the pictures looked so like her son, dark hair, cherub cheeks hiding high cheekbones. Her body had been covered in cuts, a gaping hole in her chest telling Geralt that these men had literally cut her heart out. The pool of blood beneath and around her was smeared and uneven, telling him that they’d done it while she was still alive. Her face, thank the gods, looked peaceful at least. Her eyes shut, her mouth not twisted in a strangled scream like Geralt had seen many times. He was about to close the file, unable to look any longer, when he saw them.

Little hand prints.

On the woman’s shirt, and her face, and the floor near her head. His heart beat faster and faster as he moved the picture closer to his face, needing to know that he was seeing what he knew, deep in his gut, that he was. Two small red smears on the backs of the woman’s eyelids. She hadn’t had her eyes closed peacefully after all. They’d been closed for her, by someone with small, blood covered hands. A child’s hands.

 _Her_ child’s hands.

Geralt sighed deeply and closed the file, throwing it onto the table so that he didn’t rip it to shreds.

“Jaskier.” He sighed, his chest aching. Yennefer was back by his side in seconds, her hand on his shoulder.

“Did it match what he told you?” she asked, voice low. Geralt looked up at her, she looked back, face full of sorrow.

“No,” he moved his shaking hand to touch hers on his shoulder.

“It was worse.” He sighed, looking into his lap. Yennefer sat down across from him, her hand clasping his, her face full of sorrow.

“They’re dead. The men who did it.” she said again. Saying the only thing she knew would make him feel better. That the monsters who had hurt Jaskier and those he loved where dead.

“Do you think he knew?” Geralt asked, a question whispered between them, a secret he was hoping he’d never know the answer to.

“I knew.”

Geralt’s heart stops as he and Yennefer both look to the bed in the room. Jaskier’s eyes are open, clear now, and looking at them.

“You knew it was them?” Yennefer asked, not unkindly. Jaskier nodded slowly, biting his lip, grimacing when his teeth hit the still healing wound there.

“That’s the thing about being a musician, I’ve got a good ear. For music. And for voices.” He sighed, looking into his lap, his fingers pulling at a string on his blanket.

“Though,” he scoffs, humorlessly, pausing to pick at the string on his knee, nail digging into the fabric.

“It’s also hard to forgot a voice that haunts your dreams.” He looks back up at them, eyes colder than Geralt has ever seen them, the dark circles beneath them making them shine.

Yennefer gets up then, and walks slowly to Jaskier’s bedside. Her hand finding his and holding it tightly as she looks deeply into his eyes, his features soften into sheepishness as she gazes at him.

“They’re dead. You killed the last one. Those men, who took everything from you.” Her voice shakes with emotions and Geralt watches a tear fall down Jaskier’s cheek.

“They’re dead. And gone. And you’re still here. With us. You won, Jaskier. You beat them.” She offers him a shaky smile, and when he returns it, with one of his own, she presses forward and hugs him, briefly. Just a tight squeeze and then she’s retreating. Both of them wiping at their faces, Jaskier sniffles as he looks at Geralt. His eyes are sad, and tired, and sunken into dark skin that Geralt longs to touch, but he smiles at Geralt. And Geralt smiles back.

~*~

Jaskier walks up the stairs carefully, holding onto the railing tightly. Geralt walks next to him, hand on his back, ready to catch him if he stumbles.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m not an old woman.” Jaskier gripes, his free hand scratching at his head, his hair lay flat and wavy on his head, the magical color long faded out during his stay in the hospital.

“Oh I’m well aware. An old woman would have been up the stairs and home by now.” Geralt teased, smiling at Jaskier when he stopped on the steps to glare at him.

“Asshole.” He mumbled, starting his slow accent again.

“What was that?” Geralt asked, stepping away from him.

“Nothing.” Jaskier hissed.

“Right. Okay then, see you whenever you get home.” Geralt said loftily, marching up the stairs and away from Jaskier, he got about three steps ahead before Jaskier was calling out to him.

“No! Wait please come back! What I meant to say was, thank you! Oh hero of men and monsters, please don’t leave me behind!” his hand flailing dramatically as he made a scene of bowing before Geralt.

“Alright that’s quite enough.” Geralt snorted, walking back down the stairs to walk next to Jaskier.

They make it up the stairs eventually. Geralt pushes the door open and lets Jaskier walk past him. They turn their heads in unison when they hear the plop from down the hall, and then the scuffling of claws against wood as Roach makes her way quickly too them. Jaskier bends and scoops her up easily as soon as she reaches his feet, holding her close.

“Oh my darling hello! Daddy’s missed you.” he breaths into her neck, face pressed into her fur as her paws curl over his shoulder, her head leaning into him as he leans into her. Geralt closes the door and walks to them, his fingers pressing deep behind her ears as Jaskier sways gently with her in his arms. He moves his head to look at Geralt.

“Did you give her a bath?” he asked, almost a whisper, as if the mention of a bath might bring back some possibly horrible memory for her. Geralt nods and pets her head.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” He murmurs, matching Jaskier’s hushed tone. Jaskier’s features darken.

“Yeah, I sort of… just shoved her under the bed. One of them tried to kick her so I had to get her out of the way.” He shrugged, careful not to jostle her. Geralt looked at him, and saw his eyes filling with tears, he moved without thinking, pulling them both close. He felt Roach wiggle between them and then settle. Jaskier moved one arm away from her, snaking it up around Geralt’s back, his slender fingers digging deeply into Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt barely felt it, he just held him closer, letting him cry against him for as long as he needed. Jaskier pressed his face into Geralt’s neck, his tears wet and warm against his skin. He moved his hand up Jaskier’s back, cupping the back of his head, his fingers soothing over soft hair.

Jaskier pulls back slowly, readjusting the rabbit in his arms and clearing his throat.

“Sorry, I just. Long few days.” He says with a breathy laugh. Geralt gives him a soft smile.

“You don’t have to apologize.” He says, and he can hear the emotion in his own voice. Jaskier looks at him for a long time, something unknown dancing behind his eyes.

“Thank you Geralt.” His voice was heavy. He let Roach down, wiping his hands on his thighs nervously as she hopped a few paces away from them.

“It’s fine.” He said, his hands shaking at his sides.

“No.” Jaskier shook his head and took a step forward.

“ _Thank you_ Geralt. For everything.” He closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around Geralt properly this time, pulling him close and burying his face in his neck once again. Jaskier’s hands fist in Geralt’s shirt as he pulls him closer, he’s pressed against Geralt nearly head to toe now. Geralt suppresses a shiver and tightens his hold as Jaskier shakes in his arms and clings to him. He holds him, silently, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Jaskier’s scent filling him with warmth. Jaskier’s heart pounds behind his ribs where he’s pressed to Geralt’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahhahahahaha! HHHIIIIIII! so i know i think i said this would be the last chapter but.... hahahahaha.... how wrong i was. I was so so wrong. i mean i meant for it to be...but things got away from me. also, i don't know when the next update will be. could be as soon as tomorrow or waaaayyy later than that. I'm just crazy exhausted from work but i have the ideas in my head at least, i just have to get them on the page and try not to let them run away from me. hahahahah! thanks so much to all those who are sticking with this fic and staying with me on this journey!!! i'm so glad you guys like this fic! thanks for reading as always my darlings!!! <<<333


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings this time my darlings! just straight fluff!! ....wait i think. ... ... .. no yeah it should be good cute stuff!!! hahaha!

Jaskier had replaced his instruments easily. Apparently guitars were easy to get, and the record shop he works at also sells gently used pre-owned instruments, and they’d given him a discount on a keyboard. He’d sighed when Geralt asked him about it, it wasn’t as good as his old one, but it was good enough, for now anyway. And Geralt had tried to be happy for him. He really had. But there was a sinking feeling in his gut, because both of his birthday present ideas for Jaskier had just been torn away.

He’d heard Jaskier mention his upcoming birthday to Renfri at the coffee shop. He’d been asking if there was a free muffin or coffee available for birthdays, his whole body drooping when she’d told him no. And since then Geralt had been… planning. He’d been planning… things. Mainly to replace Jaskier’s instruments for him. Granted, he hadn’t really started looking into it. And Jaskier was a musician so he probably should have expected him to replace his own instruments, but he’d been sidetracked. Stuck in his head about finding the perfect gifts and then he’d come home one day and Jaskier had had a new guitar in hand, strumming out an upbeat tune to Roach, who was hopping around on the floor in front of him.

Geralt was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. Listening to Jaskier’s voice across the hall, he was talking to someone. He’d been video chatting with someone a lot. Laughing with them. Geralt didn’t want to pry, so he hadn’t asked. He’d had to bite his tongue a few times. He knew that if he asked, the jealousy he was feeling would seep into is words and Jaskier would know. He was extremely good at reading people. His shinning blue eyes always seemed to see more than they should. Geralt was used to seeing things himself, not other people seeing things in him.

He sighed and let himself fall backwards, staring up at the ceiling. He had no idea what he was supposed to get him for his birthday now. Renfri kept bragging about how good her and Yen’s present was. And every time she mentioned it, Geralt’s stomach tied itself in knots, he had to find the perfect gift. But what do you get a siren, who’s come into your life and turned it upside down, in the best possible way? He needed the perfect gift. But as far as he was concerned, right at this moment, as he groveled alone on his bed, listening to Jaskier’s laughter through the wall, that present didn’t exist. He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned.

“Geralt?”

Jaskier’s voice pulled him from the light sleep he’d been drifting in. He moved his arm away from his face and looked to his door. Jaskier was standing in the door way, tattered sleeveless band shirt hanging loose over a pair of spiderman pajama pants. He looked… nervous. Both hands fiddling with the fabric on his pants as he looked at Geralt through his lashes.

“You okay?”

He hadn’t been nervous around Geralt since the first week he’d been here. But Geralt could smell it. Could feel it. Jaskier nodded and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m good. I just… can I show you something? Or I mean I guess, would you… wanna listen to something?” He took a few hesitant steps forward, Geralt could see his hands shaking.

“It’s just something I’ve been working on with Mads. My friend from the shelter. She helps me write things and sing things, sometimes, and I just… I wanted to show you…” his voice trailed off, and he grimaced. Geralt pushed himself off the bed, settling his hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, bringing his eyes from the floor to Geralt’s face.

“I’d like that.” He said, Jaskier’s eyes widened, and he could feel those waves of happiness washing over him again. Jaskier took a few steps, his hand moving from his side to Geralt’s wrist. Geralt followed him, automatically, and then stopped, his hand twisting in Jaskier’s and pulling him to a stop.

“Wait. How-“

“Don’t worry I’ve got it all figured out.” Jaskier smiled and took a tentative step back.

“Trust me?” Jaskier asked, giving Geralt’s hand a squeeze, his voice light, having no clue how weighted that question was for Geralt. Geralt looked at him, all open features and curved lips and softness, and felt his stomach flutter.

“Yes.” Geralt said, his chest aching as he let Jaskier pull him across the hall. The room smelled of cinnamon. Geralt looked around and saw at least three candles lit. Jaskier turned him easily and set him down on the edge of his bed. He held his palms out, moving them down once, motioning for Geralt to stay, without saying it, a smirk on his lips when Geralt raised his eyebrows at him. Roach shuffled out from under Jaskier’s bed and jumped up to lay next to Geralt, pressing against his leg like always.

“Okay so we recorded this a bit ago, a few weeks ago maybe. After… after… the thing.” Jaskier’s eyes glazed over for a moment. He shook his head and came back.

“Anyway!” he clapped his hands and pointed to the candles.

“Those are just a precaution. In case there’s any leftover… siren-y… things, going on. I’m pretty sure I managed to not get them on there, Mads was okay when we recorded. And I filtered the hell out of it. Like four times. Just to be sure and-“

“Jaskier.” He cut him off, the sirens cheeks were nearly glowing red, his hands moving faster and faster as he tried to quell a worry that Geralt didn’t even have.

“Yeah?” he bit his lip, holding in the words that had been falling past his lips, eyes wide as he looked at Geralt.

“Just play the song. I trust you.” Geralt nodded. He watched as Jaskier’s teeth dug deeper into his lip before letting go. He took a deep breath, nodded, and moved to his laptop. It was sitting open on top of his keyboard, the screen lighting up some kind of music player. His hand hovered over the keyboard, his fingers wiggling. He looked back to Geralt, his mouth opening and closing a few times, he looked like a worried fish.

“Jaskier!”

“Okay okay here goes!” Jaskier exclaimed, his hands moving in a flourish and then slamming against the keyboard. He crossed his arms and walked away, Geralt watched him and he waved his hand at him, pointing towards the laptop. Geralt moved his eyes back to it, closing his eyes soon after, listening as an eerie sound filled the room. A sound like wind blowing. And another sound, underneath that, some kind of long drawn out musical note, resonating under the howling wind. And then Jaskier’s voice began and Geralt didn’t care what the sound was, or where it was coming from, or what was making it. He let Jaskier’s voice wash over him, his chest swelling with every word.

“When you call to me asleep,

up the ragged cliffs I scramble.

A single thread hangs limply down.

And I breathe not now, not now.”

His voice is haunting, not singing really, more speaking. It sends shivers over Geralt’s skin. He can hear another voice, a woman’s voice, beneath Jaskier’s, matching his tone, a beautiful haunting whisper.

“I’ve run out of my words, my song.

Just let me die, me die.

Coz I’ll darn you back together,

when you think that you’re bereft,

and you’ll wail you’ll scream, but I’ll never stop,

coz it’s all that I have left.”

Geralt can feel Jaskier pacing, the nervous energy coming off of him filling the room and setting Geralt’s own nerves on edge. Geralt opens his eyes, looking at Jaskier as he paces, his own voice filling the air. His eyebrows are furrowed, arms crossed over his chest, one hand raised, fingers pressed to his lips. His eyes stormy, and uncertain, like he isn’t quite sure he likes what he’s hearing or not.

“I wake and hear you calling,

and up those cliffs I climb.

And find you with a thimble weeping.

May I, I ask, may I?”

Geralt opens his eyes again. Something inside him compelling him, he reaches out, his fingers curling around Jaskier’s arm gently. Jaskier jumps, his mouth dropping open a little as Geralt pulls him down beside him. His eyes on Jaskier’s as those haunting voices continue to speak.

“And you gently gift it to me,

coz you’ve no clue how to sew.”

Geralt smiles at him softly, his fingers still pressed to his wrist. He listens to Jaskier’s voice fade out, the other haunting voice taking over as Jaskier stares back at him, his throat bobbing as he swallows heavily, his eyes roaming over Geralt’s face like they can’t decide what to look at. 

“And I know the kindest thing,

I pray to god it’s the kindest thing.

I know the kindest thing, is to never,

leave you alone.”

The wind howls for a moment longer and then they’re sitting in silence, Jaskier’s hands wringing in his lap, his fingers tangled and tugging at each other, his knee bouncing out a chaotic rhythm. His eyes have fallen to the floor. Geralt takes a deep breath and lays his hand over Jaskier’s, he stills beneath his touch and Jaskier’s eyes are on him again. Geralt’s head swims, not because of the song, not because of his voice, but because of _him_. Just him.

His senses are full of cinnamon, and Jaskier, and Jaskier’s eyes. The thing behind Geralt’s ribs purrs when Jaskier’s hand turns and his fingers curl around Geralt’s wrist again. His eyes move from Geralt’s eyes to his lips, and then back up, and then back down again. He clears his throat and laughs through his nose. Shaking his head and looking back to his lap.

“So did- did you like it?” He asks with a shrug, his shoulders barely moving. He’s trying to play it down, like he doesn’t care. Geralt can _feel_ how much cares. It’s pouring off him in waves, waves that are making Geralt a little dizzy. Jaskier feels things so deeply, they flow out of him constantly, a steady stream of strong emotions assaulting Geralt at all times. He blinks at Jaskier, licks his lips, because he wants to speak, but his throat is so dry.

“It was,” he takes a deep breath, looks around the room, away from Jaskier, trying to clear his head and remember how words work. It doesn’t work. Not really. He’s in Jaskier’s room, surround by the scent and presence of him. He hasn’t been here that long, not really, but this room is so lived in. So full of him that Geralt can’t remember what it looked like before this, before him. He sighs and looks back to him.

“It was… magical.” He breathes the word, like a prayer, the only word he can think of, the only word he’s ever _felt_. And he feels it constantly now, always when he’s with Jaskier. Everything about him. Everything he does. _Magical_. He opens his mouth to try and tell Jaskier this, not sure how he’d even begin to describe it but determined to try. He doesn’t get the chance. He opens his mouth, lips parting just enough for words to escape, and then his lips are sealed again, Jaskier’s own lips a gentle pressure against his.

Geralt’s eyes refuse to close. They stare forward, at Jaskier, so close, pressing into him. His eyes are closed, his hand moves up Geralt’s arm, over his shoulder, to rest on his neck. Geralt’s skin burns and his eyes still refuse to close. He hasn’t moved. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but he hasn’t moved, he’s frozen, and Jaskier has noticed now. His eyes open instantly, and he’s gone from Geralt’s space just as fast. Backing away from him across the room, one hand held out toward Geralt, the other wrapped around himself tightly. And he’s shrinking in on himself, the way he does, and Geralt’s heart breaks. But he still hasn’t moved why hasn’t he moved?

“Fuck. Geralt I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- I shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again I just-“

Geralt forces himself off the bed, Jaskier’s words and the fear and embarrassment rolling off him pulling Geralt forward. He moves to Jaskier quickly, and then slows, his hands moving to his hips gently, pressing Jaskier back against the wall. He moves one finger to his lips, stopping the torrent of words he can see wanting to overflow. Jaskier’s eyes are wide, and full of guilt, and Geralt can’t have that. Refuses to look at that any longer. He presses forward, his lips pressing into Jaskier’s, the startled sound it pulls from the siren making him smile. And then Jaskier is smiling, their teeth click together, as their lips pull apart.

Jaskier’s hands move fast. One pushed up into his hair, and one wrapped around his waist. His fingers curl in Geralt’s hair, nails moving over his scalp and he presses forward involuntarily, melting into the touch, into Jaskier. The hand on his waist pulls him closer, their bodies flush now. Geralt hums and pulls back, looking at him. His eyes are shinning, the smudged eyeliner there not helping Geralt keep himself in control. He dips forward, brushing his nose against Jaskier and the laugh that bubbles out of him cements the idea in Geralt’s head that that was the best decision he’s ever made.

“Not mad?” he asks, his voice low, just above a whisper. Geralt shakes his head before letting it fall forward onto Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier’s fingers move in his hair again, tracing gentle circles on his scalp.

“I didn’t misread that then? You definitely _were_ staring at my mouth?” he gives Geralt’s hip a squeeze and Geralt pulls back, looking at him with furrowed brows.

“Yes.” His voice sounds wrecked, rough, and stuck in his throat. Jaskier’s eyes darken, a look that Geralt has only seen in the few blessed good dreams he’s been granted of late, and he nods. The grip on Geralt’s waist tightens, the fingers in his hair move down to his neck and then Jaskier is kissing him again.

Geralt gasps into the kiss, his arms wrapping around Jaskier. Jaskier’s arm snakes further around him, his hand moves from his neck to Geralt’s shoulder and then Geralt’s back is against the wall, his head swimming after being spun around so effortlessly. Jaskier grins at him, his eyebrows twitch on his forehead, Geralt has only a second to think about how Jaskier’s teeth have that sharp edge to them again and then he’s moaning into Jaskier’s mouth. Jaskier’s tongue moves across his teeth, presses deeper as Jaskier moves himself just so between Geralt’s legs and Geralt thinks he might pass out. His hands grab at Jaskier where ever they can reach, they settle on his ass and pull him forward, he smiles against Jaskier’s lips when he groans into Geralt’s mouth, hips rolling into him when Geralt pulls his lip between his teeth. They pull back panting at the same time. Jaskier’s hands settling on his shoulders, petting at his shirt absentmindedly as Geralt moves his fingers over his swollen lips. Geralt dips, brushes their noses again, and grins at the laugh Jaskier chokes out.

“Fuck that was overdue.” Jaskier breathes, pressing forward quickly, his lips a gentle press and then gone again as he looks at Geralt. Geralt sighs, lets his head fall back against the wall. Jaskier hums and moves his fingers over Geralt’s throat, his thumb resting against Geralt’s pulse. He smiles, wolfish, when he feels Geralt’s heart pounding.

“Kinda like me huh?” he teases, fingers squeezing, a barely there pressure that makes Geralt’s hips jump. He bites his lip when Jaskier’s eyes fall between them, noting the movement, and then rise back to Geralt’s face. Geralt can feel the heat crawling over his cheeks, his face burning under Jaskier’s scrutiny.

“Kinda liked that too.” He whispers, pressing close, his lips brushing Geralt’s ear. He presses a kiss to his neck, slow and deliberate, and then he pulls back, away from Geralt completely. He bites into his lip harder to keep the whine that threatens at bay. Jaskier grabs his hand as he sidles backwards, toward the bed. Roach is gone, probably having hopped out into the living room, into her own bed. 

“Hit the light.” He says, a cheeky smile on his lips as he nods toward the switch next to Geralt. Geralt slaps his hand into it, the over head light goes off, leaving them in the low light of the candles Jaskier had lit. Jaskier laughs when Geralt blinks his eyes a few times, trying to adjust. Jaskier walks backwards, pulling Geralt forward, his hand warm in Geralt’s. His legs hit the bed and he stops, pulling Geralt close, lacing their fingers together.

“Would you stay here with me tonight?” he asks, dipping forward like Geralt had done to him, bumping their noses. Geralt smiles.

“You know I will.” He says, his heart pounding as Jaskier moves his hands up Geralt’s arms, slowly. So. Fucking. Slowly.

“I know you _will_. But do you _want_ to?” he presses, asking for clarification in a way no one ever has for Geralt. Jaskier’s hand settles on his shoulder, fingers brushing against his neck gently. Geralt sighs at the touch, letting his eyes fall closed as he presses his head to Jaskier’s.

“I always want to.” He sighs, smiling in the dark when Jaskier pulled back and pressed his lips to Geralt’s forehead. Like he’d done all those nights ago on the couch.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He whispered, his hands moving back to Geralt’s as he crawled back onto the bed. Geralt followed him gladly, curling up beside him and letting Jaskier drape himself over him, head resting on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns onto his shirt. Geralt smiled to himself in the low light, Jaskier never stopped moving. Not while he was awake. And he moved a lot in his sleep as well, flailing and tossing and turning. Geralt didn’t mind it. Because no matter how much he tossed, and turned, he always ended up curled around Geralt, breathing deep and even as he slept peacefully.

“That friend of yours. She’s not human either is she?” Geralt asks, his fingers moving up and down Jaskier’s arm as he wiggles next to him, trying to get settled. He snorts into Geralt’s chest.

“No. She isn’t.” He can feel Jaskier’s smile, the way his cheek presses harder into his chest.

“Is she like you?” Geralt knows he sounds cautious, and he knows Jaskier is most likely picking up on the jealousy he’s forcing down inside. Jaskier shakes his head.

“Naw, she’s part fae. On her dad’s side. He’s pretty nice. A little intense. But nice.” Geralt smiles, he can picture the way Jaskier’s eyes widen as he describes his friends’ father.

“Is he around a lot?” Geralt bites his lip, hopes Jaskier doesn’t think he’s prying into his non-human friend’s life for nefarious reasons.

“Not really. He’s sort of a loner. He helped her buy the shelter, which was nice, though we’re still trying to decide if he did that for _her_ , or so he could lurk in the woods on the land behind it.” Geralt’s fingers falter on his arm and Jaskier starts laughing, his chest shaking where it’s pressed to Geralt’s. Jaskier braces his hand on Geralt’s chest and moves to look at him.

“I’m just kidding.” He says, wiggling his eyes brows and then settling again.

“Hmm.” Geralt hums, trying to sound as unamused as possible.

“Yeah he likes the woods on the edge of town much better any- Ah!” Geralt pokes him in the ribs and has him laughing again. He laughs into a sigh and then there’s silence as they lay in the warm glow of the candles. Time passes, the candles burn, and Geralt’s mind races.

“Can I ask you something?” Geralt was surprised by the sound of his own voice, loud in the quiet room. Jaskier’s fingers pause and then resume their idle movements.

“Of course.” Jaskier sighs.

“Your teeth. They… sometimes they look…”

“Sharp.” Jaskier supplies, his hand pressing flat against Geralt’s chest.

“Yes. Is that how they really look? Without the magic?” Geralt moves his hand to Jaskier’s head, burying his fingers into Jaskier’s hair, his mohawk is soft from his shower, it was a pretty greenish blue today, Geralt’s favorite so far.

“Yeah. Siren genes are strong. It takes strong magic to hide the… lingering features.” His fingers are moving again, nervously tapping over Geralt’s heart. Geralt moves his hand to Jaskier’s, holding it still. He moves, doing his best to look at Jaskier as he lays on his chest. Jaskier moves to lean on his elbow and looks down at him.

“What?” He asks after a long moment of Geralt just looking at him.

“Can I see?” he moves his fingers between Jaskier’s, his thumb soothing circles into his skin. He sees Jaskier blanch, watches him swallow, his eyes going wide and then looking at their hands.

“I don’t know if that-“ he starts, voice quiet, and shaking.

“Jaskier. I’m not going anywhere.” He squeezes Jaskier’s hand and then moves his hand to Jaskier’s cheek, his thumb pressed to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth.

“You can show me.” He moves his thumb across Jaskier’s lips, smiling when Jaskier presses into it, kissing his thumb as it passes.

“You can trust me.” Geralt soothes, his other hand moving to Jaskier’s on his chest. Jaskier looks at him, for a long time, his eyes roaming over Geralt’s face in the candlelight. He watches as Jaskier takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

The glamour that covers him fades slowly, his skin begins to shimmer, the way it had in the warehouse, the faintest outline of what look like scales dance across his skin. They don’t cover his face, they shine on his cheeks and down his neck, Geralt can see his arms shimmer as well. He opens his eyes finally, and Geralt gasps, they’re black, solid black, no white to be seen. Geralt moves his fingertips under Jaskier’s eyes, across the dark circles he’s been longing to touch since they’d met, and looks closer. There is color there. Thin lines of blue running through the inky darkness like lightning. Jaskier sighs at Geralt’s touch, his fingers curling in his shirt.

“You’re beautiful.” Geralt breathes, his fingers never leaving Jaskier’s face. Jaskier smiles then, and a mouthful of pointed teeth greet Geralt. The smile is sheepish, not at all a match for the teeth lurking behind it. Geralt knows he should say more, knows he should say _something_. But he can’t. His mouth is dry again, and there are no words in his head that could possibly do this justice.

“Are you just gonna stare at me forever?” Jaskier asks, a breathy laugh escaping him as he moves his hand up to hold onto Geralt’s where it’s still caressing his face.

“If you’ll let me. Yes.” Geralt says, finally managing to speak. Jaskier laughs again, ducks his head onto Geralt’s chest, and settles down onto him again.

“You were afraid to show me.” The silence that follows tells Geralt he’s right.

“Why? You know I wouldn’t hurt you.” His hand is back in Jaskier’s hair, he knows he likes it, knows it calms him.

“I do. But I also know you’re a witcher. And I _look_ human. And I know you know I’m not. But… sometimes… in my experience. Seeing the human parts slip away, seeing the monster underneath. It can… change how people feel. It can change their stance on how exactly they feel about monsters.” He pushes himself up again, looks down at Geralt, skin shimmering.

“No matter how much someone claims to love you, monster and all, that can always change when the glamour falls. Usually does. Trust me.” He huffs, looking at Geralt with sad eyes and a smile to match.

“And you’re a witcher. It’s your…job. To kill monsters. Just a lingering fear I suppose. From all those scary stories that monster mommies tell their _retched_ little children at night.” He smiles again, mischief dancing in his eyes as sharp teeth sink into his lip. Geralt tilts his head.

“Was I a scary story your mother used to make you behave?” his fingers move in Jaskier’s hair, he leans into the touch, humming happily as Geralt smiles up at him. Jaskier drops himself back down, settling back into Geralt.

“Of course you were.”

“And did it work?” Geralt is grinning now, knowing the answer before Jaskier gives it.

“Oh absolutely not.” He laughs, the happy sound sending shivers through Geralt.

“It peeked my curiosity if anything. I mean look at me. I’ve never run from a witcher. Hell, I answered an ad and moved in with one.” His body shakes against Geralt as he keeps laughing.

“Would your mother really be surprised?” Geralt asks, hoping afterward, realizing what he’s asked, that the question wouldn’t hurt Jaskier.

“No. She’d probably say it was fitting that I’ve fallen in love with a witcher. I was always a contradictory little creature.” He laughs again and then goes rigid. Geralt can hear his heart begin to pound in his chest as he realizes what he’s said. Geralt breathes deeply, his heart beat matching the frantic beats of the man beside him. His fingers had stopped moving when Jaskier spoke. He willed them to move again, slow circles, trying to sooth him. But Jaskier’s body stays still, and stiff, next to him. He’s barely breathing and Geralt doesn’t now what to do. There is one thing, his brain supplies, the thing behind his chest rumbling at the idea. To have out with it, once and for all.

“I love you too Jaskier.”

He whispers the words. Presses them into Jaskier's hair with a kiss, and feels him melt into him. His body relaxes again and he wraps his arm around Geralt, pulling him closer. He moves his head again, his lips find Geralt’s neck and he peppers kisses there, moving his way up Geralt’s jaw until Geralt is sure he’s going to faint. His skin is burning again, Jaskier’s kisses and touches searing him in the best way as he makes his way to his mouth. Jaskier licks into him with a purpose, Geralt moans and clings to him, his eyes falling shut as he moves his mouth against Jaskier’s, doing his best to keep up with that wicked tongue. Jaskier pulls back again, looking down at him, panting against his mouth in the flickering light. He presses forward quickly, a chaste kiss pressed to Geralt’s lips with a laugh, and then he’s laying on his chest again. Geralt takes a deep breath and lets it out with a sigh. He hears, and feels, Jaskier snort.

“Sorry. I just… I had to.” He says, his fingers digging deep into Geralt’s ribs, holding him close, making Geralt squirm closer. He presses another kiss into Jaskier’s shower soft hair, and sighs.

“I’m not complaining.” He mumbles, smiling at the ceiling as Jaskier’s musical laugh fills the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it just keeps going and going and going and going and going and going!!!! will it ever end??? who knows? Not. fucking. me!!!!! hahahaha! this is fine. okay so like... i'm gonna say it again, just cuz fuck it at this point, ONE MORE CHAPTER AND THAT'S IT GUYS, AFTER THIS...JUST THE ONE. who believes me? no one? good. me neither. i thought this was gonna just be a straight shot and small fic and now i've... i've done this. 
> 
> AND HEY FUN FACT: THIS IS NOW THE LONGEST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN!!! 
> 
> Also yes, that is The Rockrose and The Thistle from The Amazing Devil. and yes "Mads" is Madeleine! because i love them and have no self control. i'm a mess. but guys, i'm YOUR mess.  
> *jaskier voice* YOU'RE welcome. 
> 
> so yeah... this is... this is going. thank you for reading guys! and all your comments are so sweet and motivating i'm really glad you're enjoying this!!!

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like... in one day, my hands were burning and my eyes, but i did by gods! i hope you all like it!!! nice comments are always loved an appreciated!!! <<<#333
> 
> *no beta readers here we die like men*


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